Bluebell
by leevass
Summary: In some cultures, the bluebell is the flower of death. In others, it's the flower of hope. If you were told that the world was going to burn to the ground in three months, what would you do? Destiel, TFW-centric.
1. San Francisco

**|\|\|\|**

 **Bluebell, Chapter 1.**

 **San Francisco.**

 **[30]**

Smoke burned Dean's lungs as he surveyed the chaos in front of him from his vantage point on the rooftop. He and Cas had split up to try and find him - Dean had chosen to take the inner city, while Cas had taken the outskirts. The others were still back at the Roadhouse; Dean didn't want to endanger anyone without cause. Fires raged around him; around an overturned car, a rundown building, a skip full of rubbish. Chemical fumes and smoke from the burning piles clawed at Dean's throat and scratched at his eyes.

As his raw and painful eyes watered, Dean squinted through the blur of tears and smoke for any sign of him, but his eyes couldn't make out faces in the smoke. When he turned around, he was met with a sight he could have gone his whole life without seeing.

People were turning on each other, fighting like wild dogs over the last scrap of meat as they pillaged and looted from shops. They were animals, fighting hand-to-hand or with makeshift weapons for the most inconsequential items. No one would need them soon anyway.

It had been fine until the news broadcast the previous night; after that, people had just snapped. It seemed impossible that things had somehow gotten even worse. The rioters smashed through windows, sending showers of broken glass cascading over anyone who got too close and covering the ground. The glass created a hellish mosaic as it reflected the orange flames, the grey sky and the blue streak of Bluebell, and became ever slicker with dark red blood. It was a massacre; no matter what anyone said, this was the end of the world, not what was to come.

Dean scanned the brawling and rioting crowd. His green eyes dragged along the ground, praying he wouldn't see his body. He passed his eyes through the rowdy groups, knowing he wouldn't be there; he was too innocent for that. He picked his way through the groups of people standing on and under balconies and helping to get people to safety. If he was going to be anywhere, he'd be there. He had to be there.

Dean's heart constricted in his chest as he saw him - he was helping people get off the road and onto the rooves and balconies along the sides of the street. Of course he was. He was so close, just on the other side of the street, but Dean couldn't get down and cross the street, and it would take too long to go around. Dean wanted to shout out and get his attention, but that would mean drawing attention to himself and he would have a enough of a hard time with this rescue mission without having to fend off rowdy drunks too.

Dean's eyes landed on him again. He was holding a young girl, two at most, trying to pass her to some idiot who was more busy with filming the whole ordeal than helping.

"Take her! _Now_!"

Dean heard him scream over the noise of the rioting and the screaming of the squirming child. "I'm slipping!" Dean squinted into the anarchy as his heart thudded in his chest, and saw that he was standing on a rickety, slanted pile of rubble.

Then, everything happened at once.

The overturned car exploded, sending plumes of fire and smoke into the sky. The wind blew the hideous black cloud across the sky and street, blocking out the light and obscuring Dean's line of sight. What he did see broke him. The rioters were stampeding in the opposite direction. A woman on the balcony grabbed the screaming girl and hoisted her to safety. Then he slipped, tumbling down the pile of rubble, rolling into the middle of the stampede.

"SAMMY!" Dean screamed, but he didn't see him get up again. Didn't see the tall, skinny, gangly form of his baby brother appear, unscathed, from the crowd. But he had to. Sammy had to be alright.

Minutes passed, and there was still no sign of him. Dean's world shattered around him, and he fell forward, slamming his fists into the gravel on the roof top. With a tearless, strangled sob, Dean called out again.

" _SAM!"_

 **|\|\|\|**

 **Two and a Half Months Earlier.**

Sergeant Bill Greene's coffee mug slipped from his fingers, smashing as soon as it hit the ground. Nobody moved to clean it up, even when dregs of grainy brown dripped from the shards onto the spotless linoleum floor.

"Check again."

He was a man of action, unseasoned with matters like science. He knew more about training men than what makes a man, more about bomb tactics than what made bombs blow. All of this – men in white coats with black-rimmed glasses and passive faces, hand sanitizer dispensers at every corner – was a whole new world to him. Out of all the places he could've been today, California State Observatory was at the bottom of the list.

"Sir, we've done every test there is." The scientist beside him was all skinny limbs and reflective glasses, too wimpy in appearance to gain the sergeant's respect.

"Well do more!" he snapped, and the man scurried off.

The sergeant was far, far out of his depth. He turned to the nearest assistant. "Status report."

"The asteroid is over 60 miles in width, the minimum diameter that could decimate all life being 7-8 miles." The scientist sounds shaky, to say the least. "It appears to be travelling at a speed of around 30,000 m/h. NASA's Asteroid Redirect Mission failed, due to the colossal size of the meteor. The meteor is a fragment from Jupiter's largest moon Ganymede. The fragmentation was caused by a period of extended stress a long a pre-existent fissure. It had been hypothesized that this was a potential outcome, but the statistics were minuscule."

The government official, three glinting honour badges pinned to his chest, grasped onto the only part of the conversation he had understood. "How miniscule?"

"0.00001587301% chance for a normal meteor strike, in this case I'd say that it was approximately ten thousand times less likely."

Sergeant Greene puffed out his chest. "Call in your supervisor, check the bloody results again then! It's obvious that this is a mistake-"

"Sir, would you have been called here for a mistake? You're on track to become the next leader of American and Global defence. We wouldn't ask for you to be here for a mistake." Sergeant Green didn't answer.

"So," the assistant continued professionally, "based on the distance from that moon to us, the probability of a moon fracturing against the inward acting centripetal force of gravity, as well as the chance of it flying off at a tangent that directed it at Earth with a speed that was enough to prevent it from being pulled into the orbit of a neighbouring planet is next to nothing. Many people are saying that this is… something intended, sir."

"And how far away is this moon… thing?"

"There are 628.3 million kilometres from here to Ganymede. It's the only moon that is known to have a magnetic field. Opposite polarity on different sections of the moon would explain it breaking apart, sir."

For the first time that day, the sergeant relaxed. "So we still have a lot of time to find a way to stop this?" He gave a vaguely conceited chuckle. "You must know that technology is advancing at an astounding rate, boy."

Looking solemn, the observatory assistant passed over his clipboard. "Technology might not be advancing for much longer, sir. We have just over three months before this thing, however powerful it is when it does, hits."

Sergeant Bill Greene lowered his glasses, peering over them in horror at the note-covered paper. "Holy mother of god."

Outside a square window across the room, Lunar-End M17 winked at them, bright blue in the dusk.

 **|\|\|\|**

An autumn morning, cold, calm and crisp, dawned over the campus of West Stanford University. The orange sun of early dawn reflected off car windows as they shot in ones and twos up and down the streets. The area was dappled with bright spots of honey-coloured sunlight as the rays broke through the canopy layer of the trees. The light was almost camouflaged against the burnished oranges, deep reds and patchy browns of the fallen leaves that fell quietly and coated the ground. However, even among silent dorm rooms, not everything was as a calm as the slowly brightening sky.

Cas gave a loud groan of despair into his thick pillow, rolling over and looking up at his roommate miserably. He looked utterly defeated, and Sam had to stifle a laugh at his expression alone.

"You only had to miss two lectures, Cas. It's not the end of the world."

"It might as well be!" Cas exclaimed vehemently.

"Can't you just ask your professor for notes?" Sam raised his eyebrows questioningly, trying not to laugh.

Cas gave his friend an unimpressed, sulky look. "Oh yeah, me and social interactions, that'll _totally_ work."

"Well, what am I supposed to say?" Sam strolled casually towards the door, snagging the corner of his jacket from a nearby chair and halting his exit long enough for Cas to speak up.

"Comfort would be nice," Cas said pathetically, fixing his friend with two big puppy dog eyes.

"Comfort would be 'wasting your precious time', if I remember correctly." Sam grinned easily – it was fun to tease the twenty-two-year-old pre-med student, but his early-morning lecture started soon. "I'm gonna grab some pizza. You coming? It might wake you up a little."

Castiel gave the young student a withering look, like Sam had mortally offended him. Sam was a little confused, he'd invited the guy to breakfast, not grievously insulted him. "Pizza?! For breakfast?! You need nutrition, not a mass of saturated fat and sugars-"

Sam let out a sigh of realization and irritation, rolling his whole head towards the ceiling in time with his eye roll before staring back at the older student. "Cas, we talked about this. Don't doctor out on me."

"But you are recklessly hacking at your immune-"

"I guess I'll go on my own, then…?"

Sam didn't wait for an answer, simply swinging open the door and side stepping quickly out, closing the door as quietly as he could behind him. He padded quietly along the floor, avoiding all the creaky steps he had memorized quickly after his arrival and listening along the silent, hangover-ridden corridor as Castiel had another minor breakdown.

The twenty-two-year-old med student was in his last year here, while Sam had only been at Standford for a few months. Had had been difficult to adjust; the reliance on independent study, the new people, new places, the home sickness. It had been tough leaving Dean, his legal guardian and big brother, but a university like Stanford was an opportunity that Dean had never had, had never dreamed of having – and the older of the two brothers was all too eager for Sam to reach the higher and greater heights that he never could. Sam's face softened in fondness at the memory. Dean had given up everything for Sam, and Sam wanted to make him proud.

Dean had only been eighteen when their father died, barely old enough to become his younger brother's legal guardian. Since then, everything had gone out of the window for the older of the brothers; his schooling, his free time and most of his hobbies and his happiness alike. Sam didn't think he'd ever stop feeling bad about the last four years, and how Dean's eyes were a shade duller, hair untrimmed and constantly looking like he'd just rolled out of bed with some dude from the local bar. Dean's voice was still slightly lower than Sam's, even now that Sam was eighteen, and sounded constantly worn and gravelly now.

However, it wasn't just the physical tells that Sam had picked up on, it was other little things too. He never visited their parent's graves, he rarely listened the music anymore and when he thought Sam wasn't looking, his face crumpled into a look of pain and disarray. And it broke Sam's heart. The last few years hadn't been easy on him – hadn't been easy on either of the brothers.

But now, a law student in one of the best universities in the country, Sam had reached a point further than the younger brother had ever thought he would. Castiel had been awkward and surly at first glance, stingy about everything from his slot in the toaster to his toothbrush to his timetable.

After a few weeks, however, the man softened towards his new roommate. Sam soon learnt that Cas wasn't nearly as scary as he had first seemed, his people skills were just a little rusty, and now (despite the four-year age difference), they were best friends.

Stepping out of the large, slightly battered wooden doors of the main dorm block, Sam squinted into the sunlight. After a second, he grinned.

This was going to be a good day.

 **|\|\|\|**

Pressing down harder on the gas, Dean felt the momentum force his head hard against Baby's front seat. As she purred, roaring low and loud, her tires screamed against the ground. Flying down the freeway, Dean Winchester whooped loudly, ignoring the middle finger from a nearby truck driver. Sun poured through the back window in abundance, warm over his shoulders, and the city ahead of him was a yellow-orange body of glass, reflecting the sunrise like the earth's own personal dawn.

Hot leather against his back, flat road stretching in front of him and a cooling breeze rippling through his hair and clothes, he drove with the reckless abandon that he so often demonstrated. The strong and cloying smell of coffee filled the car, thick and bitter but just what Dean needed. Reaching across and taking a swig (and resolutely ignoring the metal flask glinting temptingly in the back seat), the green-eyed man swerved around yet another car – in the front seat of this one sat a disheveled woman who looked so sleep-deprived that she barely noticed that he was there.

A sign blurred past - it wouldn't be long now before Dean was practically on his little brother's doorstep. The visit was impromptu, sure, but he was sure that Sam wouldn't mind. Hey – Dean would even get to meet his roommate, which would most likely end in a fight - which Dean would no-doubt win, obviously. Dean didn't exactly play well with others and he was very protective of Sammy, hence the fact that he always seemed to end up fighting with his friends. But hey, Sammy always forgave him…eventually. _The Unforgiven_ blared out of the speakers (the full version, he had _standards_ ), and Dean drummed his hands to the beat on the steering wheel, until Baby nearly swerved off the road because of a particularly hard-hitting beat, and he had to stop drumming, falling apart laughing.

The city grew more and more on the horizon, his back tires throwing up dust in the rear-view mirror. He drank in the world around him, losing himself in the roar of the engine, the taste of the dry, dusty air against his lips, the heat of the autumn sun creeping across his skin. Suddenly, something strangely blue-white far off in the depths orange sky caught Dean's eye. Peering out at the open sky alongside the road, the sandy-haired man caught a brief glimpse of a bluish-silver streak - like somebody had brushed the sky with a paintbrush – before it was blocked by the huge monster form of a cargo truck.

By the time the truck had rumbled idly past, Dean had forgotten what he was looking at again, and turned back to the road.

 **|\|\|\|**

Sam's first lecture was a bore, as per usual, but he took all the notes he needed to take diligently, exchanged a smile and a few words of conversation with a few friends, and then headed in the direction of a nearby burrito stall on a secluded street in the west of the district. As he walked, he passed a street performer – all long legs and mint-green nail polish, strumming out a Gabrielle Aplin song. Her voice was good enough that Sam could, for a few seconds at least, ignore the sharp buzzing from the cell phone in his pocket.

After a few seconds and a few curious and disapproving looks from passing strangers, Sam sighed and fished around in his pocket until he could find this phone. He flipped it open with a click and answered, "Hello?"

"There's a stranger here." Castiel's voice was short and clipped. "He says he wants to see you."

Sam frowned, worried now, and started to walk with a rapid pace down the street towards the direction of the dorms. "Who? Cas, what's his name?"

There was a moment of silence before Cas' uncomfortable and anxious voice returned. "He says his name is 'Dean'. He keeps calling you 'Sammy', Sam, what do I do?"

Suddenly it all made sense, and Sam could've laughed with joy. Of course, Cas was uncomfortable with Dean - brash, loud, rough Dean – and he was positively petrified of social interaction anyway. But _Dean was here_. The two brothers hadn't seen each other in nearly three months, and Dean (in pure Dean-fashion) had just decided to drive halfway across the country and scare his roommate half to death on a whim.

Sam was ecstatic. "I'll be right there!" he said to his friend and, ignoring the protests of the still confused and concerned Cas , the brown-haired man clicked his phone shut and started to walk excitedly, nearly running, towards the dorms.

 **|\|\|\|**

Dean gave some kind of awkward cough, shooting Sam's roommate a concerned look. The man, all blue eyes and a shock of messy sex hair, was standing awkwardly on the other side of the room, as if Dean had some kind of epidemic-worthy disease that he didn't want to catch. He was standing very stiffly, eyes fixed on Dean and body facing the door as if to ready himself for a quick getaway. When Dean had first turned up, his first impression of the man hadn't been the best. Hair sticking up madly, eyes ringed by sleep deprivation, he roughly resembled a zombie; or your typical stressed college student. Either way, he had Dean secretly hoping that Sammy hadn't melted into the hot mess of stress this man looked like.

"Uh," Dean started, "are you okay?" He would have attempted to flirt but, well, this guy didn't look like he was exactly in the mood.

"Oh I know," the man replied in a gravely monotone.

"You… know?" Dean repeated. "Am I missing something?"

The man stuttered for a second, realising that he wasn't making any sense and reaching for a response wildly, before catching himself and simply shooting Dean a distinctly disapproving look. "Can we just wait for Sam?"

Dean raised his hands in surrender. "Sorry, sorry. Didn't mean anything."

The next few minutes were painfully tense, and Dean occupied himself by looking around the room. He could see clearly which side was Sam's – he'd pinned up a few pictures of him and Dean on a corkboard beside his bed, and it was far less neat and tidy compared to the other man's. Outside of the small, square window, the sky was just starting to lighten to a bluebell colour, the clouds like scratches of white chalk on the horizon.

Dean didn't know how long it was before Sam walked through the door, but when he did, he shot Dean a blinding grin and moved in for a hug. Dean filled the distance, wrapping his arms around his younger brother's shoulders and tugging him down towards him in a bone-crushing hug – customary big brother style. They hugged for a few seconds before Dean slapped Sam on the back and pulled away, giving a lopsided grin.

"You alright, Sammy?" he asked, looking the other up and down. He could've sworn that Sam had grown even more in the last few months – his hair was just as floppy and brown as it had always been, covering his eyes slightly, and by now he was even taller than Dean. The eighteen-year-old was still as lanky and gangly as always, despite regularly eating enough to sink a ship. Luckily, he didn't look nearly as tense as the other man.

Dean, on the other hand, looked a little less drawn than the last time they had seen each other – and far happier. His hair was more orderly than usual, and his wide grin was genuine (something that didn't happen often anymore). Green eyes alight with mirth, the man glanced across the room at Castiel.

"I was just meeting your…. roommate," he said, trying not to laugh. Sam shot Cas a look that clearly asked, ' _what did you do?_ ', but Cas just gave a mild glare and sat down hard on his immaculate bed.

"Can I ask who this is?" Cas asked, sounding painfully awkward as he gestured towards Dean.

"Oh, yeah, this is my big brother Dean. Dean, meet Cas, Cas, meet Dean. Have you two had time to… Make friends yet?" Sam tried and failed to diffuse the tension in the room, and all it did was widen Dean's grin, and redden Castiel's face. "…How about we go grab some food?"

Cas jumped at the excuse. "Yes. Yeah! Great! I'll just-" (he tripped over a coffee table, stumbling clumsily and grappling in mid-air before regaining his balance) "-grab my coat, I…guess. Yeah."

( _On the way out, Sam had to whack Dean over the back of the head when he swatted Cas' ass in the doorway.)_

 **|\|\|\|**

Surprisingly, once they got to know each other, Dean and Cas got on quite well. At the all-organic diner Cas insisted they went to, they both ordered the exact same meal, and teamed up against Sam in an aggressive game of Jackswitch (which they won by a landslide, despite neither having played the game before). The atmosphere was relaxed and casual. It was a nice change from the stress of classes, and all three of the men were enjoying simply chatting and catching up.

Cas, surprisingly, didn't feel as uncomfortable around Dean as he did with most people. Maybe it was the fact that he acted like they had known each other for a long time and there was none of the awkward small talk that Cas found so difficult, they just swapped stories and jokes. Unluckily for Sam, he was the focus of most of these, but he didn't mind that much: he was something they knew they had in common and Sam was just glad that they were getting along. Dean needed friends and Sam was more than happy to share Cas.

Even within his happiness, Cas sighed. With all these stories from Sam and Dean's childhood, it was hard not to think about his own.

 **Then.**

 _Cas is young, a toddler in his crib, reaching up towards his older brother. Gabe is only seven, all eyes and pointy elbows and knees, but he's grinning a grin almost too wide for his thin face. Around them, the world is made up of faded yellows and creamy-browns that meld into sunrise._

 _Cas is six, and his father is finally home. He goes to hug him, small and chubby feet patting on the cold floorboards, but Gabe holds him back in the shadows. Now ten, the older of the two is a slip of a thing that doesn't complain when he slides his portion from his plate to Castiel's every night. Michael and Luke are eighteen and sixteen, working five jobs between them, and when Chuck Novak returns they can barely look at him. Any love they had for their father is long gone._

 _Cas is eleven, scoring his first A+ on a test and actually expecting a little praise when he gets home. Gabriel ruffles his hair, eyes shadowed but fond, but then leaves to help out at the pub. His dad spares a single noncommittal look, and Michael tells him to go to his room. He's sobbing himself to sleep in his room, bitter and helpless and small._

 _Cas is thirteen, screaming out as one of the older boys' fists pounds into his face and yelling out for Gabriel, tears streaming down his bruised and bloody cheeks. Nobody runs around the corner – no dad, no Michael or Luke and no Gabriel. When he gets home, collapsed on the doorstep into Gabe's arms, his sandy-haired brother is the only one at home to take care of him._

 _Cas is fourteen, dipping nimble fingers into the bags and pockets of students around him. People stare at his second-hand clothes and his shadowed eyes and pale skin, but they don't ask and he doesn't elaborate. Michael and Luke are worse than they've ever been. Gabe is sick half the time, and out working for the rest. None of them have seen dad for a year, and Cas has now slowly started to call him 'Chuck' in his mind._

 _Cas is sixteen, smacked across the face by Luke when the man walks in on Cas and Don-from-down-the-road. Don is Castiel's first kiss, rough and inexperienced but thrilling in itself. All that thrill evaporates on the wind when there's blood running over his swollen lips, and Don won't even say his name for fear of his family._

 _Cas is eighteen, Gabriel's hushed goodbye still warm in his ears as his feet patter in the rain-filled gutters. A soggy train ticket freezes his palm and he only carries a canvas rucksack, but for the first few minutes he is full of elation. After that of course, he's sure that Michael and Luke will be waiting in the shadows around every corner for him, but at least he's free._

 _Cas is twenty-two, new roommate and the same anxiety as always, and that same deep ache in his chest that has been there for years. He misses Gabe so, so much more than he would admit._

 **Now**

After the meal, Sam and Dean's catch-up about the last three months and the miraculous friendship of Cas and Dean, the trio headed back to Sam's dorm. After letting slip that he hadn't slept for a lot longer than he should've, Dean was pushed reluctantly to the couch for a few hours' sleep by Castiel. Dean had started to try and refuse the offer, but Cas had fixed him with a murderous glare and started ranting about the effects of sleep deprivation in males aged 16-25. After that, Dean had given in, Sam chuckled and decided that he would try to employ Cas' techniques on Dean more often. While he took a long nap, Cas and Sam had a silent but productive study session. Sam soon got bored of his own work, and instead shifted over to help Cas with his. The man was stressed enough and, even if they did bicker, Sam genuinely wanted to take away some of that stress.

As the sun arched through the sky and started to decline, Dean woke up, drowsy and disorientated, but immediately busied himself exploring the dorm room. Digging around in the fridge, he emerged with a cold slice of some flavour of left-over pie, making Castiel roll his eyes dramatically in disapproval. Dean just smirked back and winked as he dug into the pastry.

Dots of reflected sun from the window pane peppered the walls like yellow sapphires, and for the first time in the last three months, Sam actually felt like he was home.

 **|\|\|\|**

The sun had set now, and the sky outside was clear and starry. Sam leaned back in the squishy beanbag that sat in the corner of his room and stretched out his back with a groan. He looked across the room at Cas and Dean, who were sitting chatting on Cas' bed, and laughed to himself quietly. He could see where this was going. Dean shot him a glare and Sam responded with an innocent shrug and a cheeky grin. Dean turned back to Cas, who was confused by the brothers' silent interaction.

"You swoop in here unannounced, scare the crap out of me, make me uncomfortable with your crazily boisterous personality and then have some sort of secret conversation about me with my best friend." Cas listed breathlessly, his tone joking. "I hate you," he said, his expression soft and his eyebrows high. It had been hard being around someone so energetic and vocal again, but it was different with Dean than it had been with his family.

Dean laughed, loud and clear, "Yeah, yeah, I know you love me."

Sam shook his head as he laughed and took out his phone to occupy himself while the other two talked. He saw a text from Jessica and smiled. Even if they weren't dating anymore, she still talked to him every day on her breaks at work. They had drifted apart, life getting in the way and neither of them willing to admit that it was over until. They had eventually accepted the fact that dating wasn't working and although they may not be in love, they still loved each other and their friendship meant a lot to both.

He opened the message and read it. Twice.

 ** _To: Sam_**

 ** _From: Jessica_**

 _Work cancelled. Some sort of mandatory national broadcast. Get to a TV NOW!_

Sam was momentarily stunned and confused, his mind reeling. There hadn't been anything in the news to suggest that a crisis worthy of national broadcast would occur. And it must've been huge - although the Emergency Alert System had been set up in 1997, it had never been used before. Whatever was going on, it was big.

"Hey, guys?" Sam called out in a tone thick with concern. There was no change in the quiet mumbling from the other side of the room. "Guys!" Sam interrupted loudly. Cas and Dean turned around and looked at Sam with two very different expressions; Cas with questioning concern; Dean with the annoyed bitchface that only a sibling can muster.

"What!?" demanded Dean in irritation.

"We've got to get to your motel now, all of us. The TV in the common room is shitty and the room'll be packed. We had better get going now or we might mi- "Dean cut in over Sam's incoherent, high speed rambling.

"What the hell are you yammering about, Sammy?" Dean asked, furrowing his brow. "Take a breath and try to form actual sentences this time." Sam gave his brother his premium childish glare. Just because he was stressing himself out with overthinking didn't mean he suddenly became serious.

"There's a mandatory broadcast, which is one of the branches of the EAS - the emergency broadcast system - so it must be serious. There's no way we'll get a space in the common room to watch it, the TV is awful anyway, so we need to get to your motel to watch it. _Now_." Sam spoke in a condescendingly slow tone; Dean wasn't amused and looked like he was going to vocalize this, but Cas interjected.

"Look, guys, this sounds important, we should go."

There was a ruckus of footsteps and muffled shouts from outside the room. Dean looked at the door then looked back at Sam with an expression of mild concern. "Fine, let's get a move on."

 **|\|\|\|**

Dean pushed open the door of Sam and Cas' room and was met with complete and utter anarchy.

People were thundering around the building, grabbing their friends and pulling them down the stairs. _What the hell is going on?_ thought Dean. He grabbed Sam by the arm and reflexively grabbed Cas too, guiding them down the stairs, past the herds of students in the corridor and the rows and rows of people in the common room, packed like sardines in a tin, all their beady eyes fixed on the dusty, black box in the corner.

But if Dean had thought that the inside was hell, the outside was something indescribable. Cars were backed up as far as the eye could see, and a fender-bender on the corner was splitting the stream of terrified and tumultuous travellers as they poured around either side of the feuding drivers. Dean's senses were overloaded; his head was spinning and his mind was whirling.

Dean whipped around to try and find Sam, suddenly aware of the fact that he had let go of his arm. The sun was setting and long shadows were cast across the world. Darkness started to cover Dean's mind and body alike. His heart stopped and his mind raced.

 ** _Then._**

 _"Sammy!" screamed Dean, his throat tight with fear and raw with the sheer amount of screaming and crying he had endured over the past few hours. They had just gotten back from the funeral; Sammy was so angry. Angry at dad for dying, angry at Dean for not stopping it, angry at the world for treating them this way. Dean knew that everyone grieved in their own way, but it hadn't mattered, he just hadn't been able to take it. He had screamed at Sam - he had screamed at him to calm down or leave._

 _And Sammy left. A fourteen-year-old kid; scared, grieving and alone. Dean had to find him. He wiped a stray tear from his cheek and pulled his head back inside the window of the Impala. If he wasn't wandering around the neighbourhood - and he would have heard Dean calling and come if he was - then there was only one place he could be._

 _As soon as Dean pulled into the cemetery he saw him, lying in front of their father's grave, curled up with his head rested on his arm. Dean pulled over and walked the distance to the grave, not wanting to disrupt the eerie calm that was permanently settled in the area. When he reached Sam, the kid looked up at him with red, glistening eyes._

 _"He left us, Dean. I don't care if he didn't do it on purpose, he left us." Dean bent down and scooped Sam into a soft hug. The kid was almost the same height as him now, but there was something about being a big brother that meant that these kinds of hugs always seemed to envelope and protect Sam._

 _"I'm not going to argue with you anymore, and just try to remember that I will never, NEVER, leave you." Dean's protectiveness harshened his voice, but it seemed to still comfort Sam._

 _"Except when I go to university?" joked Sam._

 _"Even then," countered Dean, "I'll visit you every weekend and embarrass the crap out of you." Sam chuckled and sniffed. Dean was glad that his words had cheered Sam up, but his motivations were selfish; he couldn't live without Sam, he wouldn't live without Sam. Not now._

 ** _Now._**

He couldn't then and he couldn't now. He spun around, searching for the tall, gangly shape of his baby brother, a scream already on his lips.

"Dean! He's here. I've got him. Let's go!" Cas' voice wrenched him from the chaos his panic and his hand shot out and grabbed Dean's, pulling him along as he snaked through the chaos of the crowd.

 **|\|\|\|**

They burst into through into the lobby of Dean's motel building and pelted up the stairs.

"Third floor!" Dean yelled in Cas' ear as he dragged him up the stairs. People rushed up and down the stairs on either side, pushing and shoving. Sam stumbled and must have hurt himself if the string of profanities was anything to go off, but he kept moving. The corridors were a flurry of movement, two men whispering harshly to each other in the doorway of the room next to Dean's, and the loud, shrill scream of a police siren outside of the window.

The next thing Cas heard was the click of a door being unlocked, and soon he was yanked inside a bare, dull motel room with a closed door between him and the unbridled chaos outside. However, they didn't stop moving until they hit Dean's small bed. They didn't let go of each other for a second - if the mandatory broadcast hadn't been enough to freak them out, seeing everyone else's panic had. They flicked the TV on and were greeted with robotic voice, a black screen and white text showing a count-down and a message:

 ** _The broadcast will commence in-_**

 ** _59 mins._**

 _Please wait patiently and calmly near a television or radio. Viewing of this broadcast is required of every citizen, and neglect to do so will result in severe legal consequences._

The message repeated several times before Dean muted it and the room went silent except for the ticking of the clock on Dean's bedside table, still except for the steady flickering of the TV screen. Outside, there was a hysteric hum. The city was alive with fear, anticipation. Rumours ran rampant, and for the first time, Dean's eyes landed on the large, blue-silver body in the sky from earlier. The star was bright, unusually large, and looked completely still in the clear darkness. Dean almost expected it to move.

Cas couldn't take it anymore; the waiting was going to drive him insane. As his brain riffled through a hundred possible doomsday hypotheses, he knew that it could never be as bad as what his mind was creating.

…Right?

He sighed and crossed his legs on the bed, the sleeves of his sweatshirt tickling his wrists. The only sound he could make out was the crunching from Sam, who was making his way to the bottom of his second box of Lucky Charms. Cas didn't know what disgusted him more, the constant racket in his ears or Sam's blatant disregard for his health.

Cas pulled out his phone and navigated to his study playlist, putting it on shuffle and looking down at the song that was coming on. A tad on the nose, but he was too on edge to care. He plugged in his headphones and _Disturbed - The Sound of Silence_ echoed around his head while he lay back on the bed between a crunching Sam and a quietly humming Dean. Images of nuclear warfare and outbreaks of deadly diseases swirled before his eyes.

 _Because a vision softly creeping_

 _Left its seeds while I was sleeping_

 _And the vision that was planted in my brain_

 _Still remains within the sound of silence_

Sam had recently informed them that this wasn't a nationwide broadcast, it was a global one. Apparently, Jess was just as freaked out as they were - she had called Sam in a panic about fifteen minutes ago. As the whole world held its breath, Cas closed his eyes and tried to lose himself in the music.

 _People writing songs_

 _That voices never share_

 _And no one dare_

 _Disturb the sound of silence_

Cas didn't know how long he lay there. After a while he tuned out the music; he tuned out the whole world, but he was pulled back to reality by Dean shaking him.

"It's time for the broadcast," he announced, and all heads turned to the screen as he unmuted it.

Dean wasn't ready to know, the ignorance seemed to all he had left. It reminded him so much of his father's death, it was like he was reliving it. The unspoken discussion to not talk about it, the fear and suspense, and the waiting. Oh, god, the waiting.

 **Then**

 _"Dean?" mumbled a half-asleep Sam, curled up on the seat next to Dean and wrapped in dad's old leather jacket. "What's going on?"_

 _Dean didn't have an answer. Dad should have been out of surgery an hour ago, and the surge of doctors and nurses running back and forth had been enough to pull Sam from his deep slumber. It was a shame; the kid hadn't slept right in weeks. But then again, neither had he._

 _"It's OK, Sammy. Just go back to sleep. I'll wake you when dad gets out, OK?" Dean's voice was false and shaky, but Sam didn't pick up on it._

 _"'Kay" he mumbled and burrowed back into the cocoon of blissful warmth and ignorance within the jacket._

 _Dean didn't know how long he sat there, watching people rush past, watching Sammy sleep, watching the clock tick by. The taunting click of the hands seemed to time out a funeral march in Dean's mind, and the little voice in his head pounded at his remaining strength waned._

Tick _. He's dead._

Tock _. You're all alone._

Tick _. Sammy is all you have left._

Tock _. He's too good for you, he will leave you too._

Tick, tock, tick, tock, tick _\- And then you will have nothing._

 _"Mr Winchester!" By the tone of the nurse's voice, she had been there for a while. "Mr Winchester, did you hear me?"_

 _"Mr Winchester is my father - please, call me Dean," he replied flirtatiously, anything to distract himself from the assault on his consciousness._

 _"…Dean. I said, your father's… I'm so sorry. We di-"_

 _It hit Dean like a battering ram._

 _"Don't!" he interrupted. "Just- Don't." Dean stood up abruptly and the nurse took a step back. The eighteen year-old grabbed Sammy, hoisting the boy surprisingly easily into his arms._

 _"Woah! Dean! What the hell?!" shouted a startled Sam, flailing in Dean's arms._

 _"We're leaving," replied Dean bluntly._

 _"No. Dean! What about dad? We need to be there when he wakes up!"_

 _Dean's face crumpled, and he looked down at Sam. "We're leaving," he said softly, allowing Sam to turn towards his chest and scream his grief and sorrow out as Dean walked quickly from the hospital._

 **Now**

Dean couldn't run from this, he wouldn't, he had to protect Sam. This had to be something he could protect his little brother from.

 _"Good evening America!" The reporter looked like she had had to use every cosmetic there was to cover up her blotchy face, but her eyes were clearly red-rimmed. Around her, a few solemn pictures of various politicians Cas didn't know flicked up._

 _"Tonight, I regret to inform you that an asteroid called Lunar-End M17 has been sighted from California State Observatory. Information has been released that, as far as we can tell, it is on a direct course towards our planet. Should it collide, there is- there's no possibility of survival."_

 _The woman started crying, and a hand reached over the desk to offer her a tissue. She took it and mopped her face, regaining her composure. She gave a watery but professional smile._

 _"However, there's no need to panic. There is only 30% chance that this asteroid will collide, and that will be in just over three months-"_

 _There was some inaudible mumbling from off screen, and the reporter's face crumpled._

 _"M-Make that… a 30% chance of survival."_

No sooner had she stammered the words out did she break down again. The pictures around her changed to a blurry, blown-up image of a blue star – with a thrill of fear, Dean realised just what he had seen out of the window.

The transmission cut out, and the trio was left staring at their own reflections in the inky blackness of the TV screen.

Sam saw his face distorted and wide in the curve of the TV, his hands clutching the box of cereal and his eyes wide and terrified. The blurry path onwards – law school, first long-term girlfriend, first full-time job, new house, first kid, second kid, grandchildren, retirement, death – was suddenly cut short. There was some monstrous form in the way, something blocking everything he had ever known, and Sam was suddenly the most alone he had ever been.

Dean saw the same face he always did, strangely blank as the information slowly started to sink in. He had no identity outside of Sammy, no life, and now he was losing both. Any will, any drive and any motivation he had to fight snapped out of existence. He might not try a lot of the time, but what was the point in trying at all if all he had to do was sit back and wait three short months for the end?

Castiel's mind, scientific and logical, scrambled for some kind of explanation. Maybe this was a social experiment, and there was no asteroid at all. Maybe there was some kind of mistake – she had been right first time, and there was a 70% chance of survival. There had to be something wrong here – because now that he had finally gotten away from his family, it all couldn't just _end_.

But as the noise outside the apartment, which had hushed for a few minutes, started to raise, the trio could almost _feel_ the panic flooding the streets. It was tangible, like some kind of disease that couldn't be purged.

 _It was all coming to an end._

 **|\|\|\|**


	2. Don't Kill the Messenger

**|\|\|\|**

 **Bluebell, Chapter 2.**

 **Don't Kill The Messenger.**

 **[29]**

The only sound in the room was the faint, tinny whisper of Castiel's headphones, still playing in the eerie silence that had settled over them; over the country and over the world. After a second, Dean ripped the wire from Cas' phone and threw the headphones across the room with a frustrated roar. They hit the wall, shattering. Pieces scattered into the corner of the room as the plastic casing exploded upon impact. Sam flinched as a fragment skirted past his shoe.

After a tense second, the younger buried his face in his hands, his breathing hitched and uneven. Dean's anger was quashed like a flame under water. Sitting back down on the bed, he wrapped his arm tightly around his brother as Cas looked on, still in shock. Outside there was complete silence, but like a distant earthquake, a roar slowly rose through the city like the wail of an injured beast. Guttural and pained and so very afraid.

Anger and fear gripped the world that in the space of five minutes had lost everything. Their families, their fortunes, their futures. Dean's skin was crawling with goose bumps, a writhing body of dread twisting and biting at his insides. Wrapping its burning tendrils of ice around his heart. Dean couldn't tell if his pulse was drumming too fast for him to pick out the thudding rhythm or if his heart had stopped beating altogether.

Sam's phone buzzed once – then silenced. Cautiously, Cas picked it up and flicked it open. It was dead. Sam, face still buried in his hands, didn't seem to care.

Dean spoke first. "It looks like it's gonna get bad out there. You should stay the night."

Sam shot up, panicked, his eyes wide and wild. "What about Jess?! And the dorms! We need to get ba-"

Impossibly close to the door, a window smashed. The high-pitched shattering echoed and muffled shouting followed soon after. The ruckus only fanned the flames of Sam's panic, and he started to pace back and forth, clenching and unclenching his fists.

"Sam. Sam! Calm down," Dean said, no trace of a tremor in his voice as he grabbed Sam by the shoulders and looked him dead in the eyes. "We all just need to calm down." Pushing his brother down onto the single moth-eaten couch, Dean shot Cas a meaningful look; the other man took a seat next to Sam, eyes still wide. Outside, the rumble of noise was now an earthquake, a thousand tsunamis on the black horizon. The shock was wearing off. People were angry, scared. That wasn't a good combination.

"Listen to it out there," Dean said, "There's going to be a riot. People are panicking. If we stay here until morning, you'll be safe, so will Cas. We can get to your dorms early tomorrow. Sound good?"

Sam took a shaky breath. "They said thirty percent, Dean, please say I didn't imagine that. Please say we have a chance." The raw pleading in his voice was enough to break his older brother's heart all over again.

"Thirty percent, Sam." It was Cas who answered, looking up at Dean with concern in his eyes. "I'll do more research on this thing as soon as I can, we can find out the details and do our own research, and I'm sure they've made a mistake. We can get past this."

Castiel – blue-eyed and messy-haired and quiet, smart, kind Castiel – was lying through his teeth, and Dean knew it. He didn't have the heart to stop him because, even if it was for just a second, there was a flicker of hope in his baby brother's eyes.

"We can get past this," Sam echoed dumbly. "We can get through this. Okay." The aura of panic, of an animal cornered in a cage, lightened a shade. Dean gave a fake, unconvincing smile, but if Sam's expression was anything to go by, he bought it. Cas was less easily fooled; Dean could feel his stare burning into his back.

"Okay." Dean stayed still for a second more before rising from the couch and approaching the window slowly. As he caught sight of the street below, the man signalled vaguely for Cas to switch off the still-flickering light – he did, and the only light in the room now was of the yellow-gold streetlamps and Lunar-End, pastel blue in the night sky.

Below, Dean could just make out the beginnings of chaos. The cart of a street vendor was overturned, some kind of thick, bitty gunk spilling from it and onto the pavement and dripping into a gutter. Two men tussled outside a bar, pulling at each other's short hair and tearing at each other like animals while two other men looked up. In the only other lightened window, a woman was sobbing while her husband slammed his fists down on the top of the TV. In the few seconds that Dean watched, two street lamps flickered off.

Distantly, a young girl screamed. Cas flinched violently, and Dean drew the curtains. Turning around, he looked at the two students. "I'll take the floor, Cas can take the couch and Sam, you take the bed. We'll get out of here when it's light tomorrow, okay?"

Sam opened his mouth to argue (what he would say, Dean would never know, because Cas cut him off by practically shoving him onto Dean's bed). "Sleep," he said simply and after a few seconds, Sam reluctantly closed his eyes. Cas padded across the floor back to Dean. In unison, the pair turned to look up at the new body in the sky, nothing but a blue streak that they now knew held all the power needed to end… to end everything.

After a few minutes, Sam's snores filled the room. Cas went into the bathroom, swilling his mouth out with water. Going back into the room, he took off his jumper. Dean would've tried some cheesy pickup line, but now he just felt too _tired_. Snagging a thin blanket from the cupboard, Dean laid it out across the floor at the foot of the couch.

Clambering bonelessly onto his designated bed, Cas clutched a pillow against his chest and looked, unregistering, at the ceiling. For the first time since Dean had met him, Castiel looked small, even afraid. It was a kind of fear that surpassed awkwardness, beat nervousness. It was dread; it was clear and raw and infectious. Dean had to turn away.

Rolling over and determinedly not looking at Cas, Dean traced the progress of a small woodlouse along the opposite wall. The ground beneath him was dusty and rough, but Dean had slept in far worse places than some grimy motel floor.

Cas made an exasperated noise, shaking Dean's shoulder. "Get up here you idiot."

Dean rolled over. "…What?"

"I said, _get up here._ There's plenty of room, I'm not going to let you sleep on the floor all night."

Dean opened his mouth to argue, then closed it again. "Fine…"

Careful not to make too much noise, Cas shifted along on the couch to make room for Dean, cross-legged against the left armrest. When he had eased himself up onto the cushions, the green-eyed man could see Castiel's face framed in the light of Lunar-End, and was startled for a second by him. Eyes bright and blue, his face worried and pinched but still somehow so animated and alive, Dean was captivated for a second.

Dean shook his head, as if to shake the thoughts out of his mind. Dean Winchester didn't do crushes. He did cheap one night stands and rough, grasping and groping kisses in the shadows of nightclubs, but he never took the time to admire the slope of the guy's neck, never gave a damn how bright and blue his eyes were. He needed to stop, before this turned into something that he could never get away from.

Sitting loosely on the other end of the couch, Dean offered Cas the blanket he'd been lying on. Cautiously, the other man took it, and as he draped it over himself, the tasselled ends brushed the floor, making a quiet sound like long grass. There was a moment of silence again, and Dean caught himself looking over at Sam's long, skinny form.

"I'm learning more about your character all the time," Cas said, his voice weary and worn.

"What?" asked Dean, a little defensive.

Cas' face softened. "We just found out that the world is ending, and you're worrying more about your brother. Doesn't it get tiring?"

"Yeah, well," Dean muttered, "when _aren't_ I worried about my brother?"

"Sorry?"

Dean looked down, avoiding his new friend's eyes. "I guess Sam didn't tell you about our dad, then?"

"No, he didn't." Castiel's flared with concern. "What is there to tell?"

"He…" Dean looked pained, and Cas offered a hand on a whim. It was too dark in the room for Dean to see it so in the end, Cas just rested it on Dean's knee.

"When Sammy and I were younger, about four years ago, our dad got sick." Outside, muffled gunshots boomed in the dark, screams and shouts and the roaring of engines blurring into one synaesthesia of sound. "Real sick. We didn't have enough for an operation and he was bedridden – so I took up as many jobs as I could get, and we saved up everything we had. We sold the house, moved in with some other family in some stuffy little house somewhere, and we had to go without everything but the essentials for a while, I guess."

Dean took a deep breath. "And if I'm honest, it really sucked ass. It took a year to get the money we needed and, by then…"

His final words went unspoken, but rang on the stale air anyway – ' _It was too late', 'we couldn't save him', 'it was all for nothing'._ Cas' hand tightened on his knee, blue eyes full of so much emotion that it almost felt like he was feeling the pain along with Dean. On impulse, Dean reached up and took it in his own – at that moment, he didn't give a damn. Let this turn into his next lost love, his next fuck-and-leave, his next no-named guy in a crowd of faceless men. He didn't care – all he cared about at that moment was the hand in his, the blue eyes that shone with Lunar-End through midnight.

"I was eighteen," he started again, voice a little stronger now, "Just old enough to get legal custody of Sam. I still worked too many jobs, but we moved into some council house somewhere and Sam studied hard for four years before coming here. I guess I spent the entire time looking after him, y'know, being dad. And it was good, but…"

"Tiring?" Cas asked for the first time, because damn if Dean didn't look tired.

"Tiring," Dean agreed.

The silence thickened now, pushing against the walls like some kind of airless balloon every time Dean breathed. Outside, he could see fire on the horizon out of the corner of his eye – burning along a rooftop or a power line or a front lawn. The sky was darker now, smoke blooming through the air like a monstrous flower.

"Sammy's the only reason I stay alive." Dean's voice was small and, for the first time, desperate. Scared. "I've always protected the kid, always. So tell me, Cas, what the hell do I do to protect him from this?"

"You…!" Cas struggled to find the right words. "There's more to your life than protecting Sam! You're worth more than that!"

"No, I am not." Dean was adamant. "If he's out for good, so am I. That's the way it's always been, and that's the way it always will be. You probably don't even have brothers do you, Cas? You don't know what it's-"

"I have got brothers."

Dean's mouth snapped shut; Cas was looking down now, messy hair shading his face.

"I've got three older brothers, and I would give my life for the youngest one if I had to. I haven't seen them in four years. The older ones-"

"Cas, stop," Dean cut in, as the other man started to shake, "you don't have to tell me." Something wet hit Dean's ankle, and he suddenly realised how close he and Cas were.

"The older ones…!" Castiel's voice was choked with the stress and the fear and grief that hadn't hit him until then, and his tears were only smears in the darkness that shrouded his face. "They're home, and they're coming after me, and…!" Cas' voice was frantic, pupils dilated as he stared deeply into Dean's eyes. "They're coming for me, and now the asteroid-"

It was like years and years of emotion, of below-the-surface panic, were suddenly shaken to the surface. For not the first time, Dean thanked everything he held holy for having a brother like he had. By the sounds of it, Castiel's brothers (whatever they had done) were worse than even the worst of Dean's family – worse than dad and far, far worse than Sammy. The other man was biting around his fist now, ashamed at the small sobs that drummed his body as his throat and sinuses became salty with tears.

Cas may've been a stranger earlier, the subject of casual flirting, but now Dean wrapped him in the kind of hug he used for Sammy. Even the other man - awkward and stingy in every way - clung back, staring over Dean's shoulder with blurry eyes at the clear night, at Lunar-End 17 hanging like a shooting star in the sky. For a second, Cas could see her clearly, but soon his vision was a wobbling mess of yellows and blues and black.

Dean patted Castiel's tense back. "It's alright, you're good. Cas?" The other man sniffed quietly. "Cas. Let it out." As the blue-eyed man buried his face in his shoulder, Dean felt something new stir in his gut. It wasn't pity. It wasn't hope. It wasn't even hopelessness.

It scared Dean almost as much as the monster in the sky did; because for the first time in his life, he felt something that was almost the beginnings of love.

After what might've been hours, Cas pulled away. He swiped at Dean's wet shoulder with his sleeve lamely. "I apologise. I… I don't know what came over me." His blue eyes met Dean's for a second, before his gaze flitted out of the window. "I don't often get that emotional."

"Yeah…" Dean was strangely captivated, a breath away from wiping the thin streaks of tears from Castiel's face. _Back off_ , he thought. _Flirting, sure, but this is too much. Back off_. Dean coughed, forced himself to lean back and break his gaze from the other's face. "I'll just- I'll just take the floor, I guess."

Dean had barely started moving off the couch when Cas grabbed him by the arm. "…Stay?"

Silence. The green-eyed man nodded. "Stay," he could only echo, "I'll stay."

As the new friends (and that's _all_ they were, Dean insisted to himself) stared up at the dark ceiling, neither came close to sleep. Eventually, Cas drifted off against Dean's knee in a not-quite hug; however, Dean's brain whirred for hours into the night.

 _Back off,_ he warned himself. _Back the fuck off._

 **|\|\|\|**

When Sam woke up, the first thing his brain jumped to was on indisputable fact; he was not in the dorms. Wherever he was, it was unfamiliar and, somehow, strangely silent. There was no sound of grumpy students shuffling around the uneven floor boards in the hallway. No sound of Cas moving around the dorm room getting ready for class. Just a dripping tap and two sets of sleepy breathing emanating from the other side of the room.

Sam's mind was fogged with sleep, and reality and dream seemed to merge into one. Which was real? The horrific nightmare about the comet or the beautiful lunch date with Jessica? Sam opened his eyes slowly, the blur of sleep slipped from his vision and the room came into focus. He refused to accept it. Refused to take the motel room as proof. Refused to take the absence of Jess and presence of Cas and Dean as evidence. But his eyes travelled around the room to the window, and he couldn't ignore that. He couldn't ignore the blue stream hanging idly in the sky, taunting him.

He couldn't take it anymore.

"Dean! Cas! Get up!" he barked as he grabbed his shoes and jacket, having slept in his clothes, he was almost ready by the time Dean hit the floor. Having rolled off Cas in surprise and embarrassment, he landed on all fours on the floor.

"I- we- it just… one sofa." He fumbled lamely, his cheeks flaming. He'd later blame that on the adrenaline surge from his rude awakening. "Wait? Why are you getting dressed?" He queried as he eyed Sam.

"We're leaving. Now. We're going back to my dorm room so that I can get my phone charger and try to contact Jess." Sam explained tersely.

Cas swung his legs off the sofa and turned around to look at Sam over the back of the sofa. "Sam, there's no guarantee that that the phone lines are still operational and even if they are, it's dangerous to go outside in such an unpredictable atmosphere. There's no way to tell how people will react to this."

Sam stalked over to the window and threw back the curtains so that the others could see. "It's quiet. Completely quiet. Everyone has crawled back into their holes. The only thing out there is that fucking comet. Now," he said flinging down the curtains, "either you come with me or you don't, but I'm leaving."  
Aware that this argument had already been won, Dean sighed.

"Just let me get coffee first."

 **|\|\|\|**

Dean tried to open the door of his motel room, but it was jammed on something. He pushed hard and the door gave a little, but still didn't open.

"I got this." Said Cas, rolling up his sleeves. Dean snorted out a laugh, but stepped back to let him try, gesturing with a sweeping motion towards the door. This should be funny. Cas took three large steps back, before rushing at the door and slamming into it. The door didn't budge and Cas stumbled back, rubbing his shoulder in pain. "I don't got this."

"Come on, we'll do it together." Suggested Dean, pulling Sam and Cas forward and positioning them at the best places along the door. "3…2…1…push!" The door creaked and groaned, something large on the other side squealed as it grated across the rough wooden floor. When the gap was large enough, Sam, Dean and Cas straightened up panting from exertion. Dean, who was the closest to the hallway, stepped around the door to see what the issue had been. A large drawer had been shoved in front of their door and the hallway was a maze of abandoned furniture.

"He still evicted me." Slurred a voice from Dean's left, he looked down and saw a man sitting on the floor, a brown bag with a bottle in it clutched in his hand. "The end of the world and the bastard tells me 'Get your things and get out!'. I thought if I blocked the hallway with furniture he'd let me stay, but it doesn't matter. I've only got three months left anyway."  
Dean pitied the man, he really did, but drunk logic and depressing pessimism wasn't going to help anyone right now. He nodded stiffly and the man, who proceeded to swig from the bottle and thud his head against the wall, sighing deeply and closed his eyes. "Is…is he OK?" ventured Cas as he edged out of the motel room.

"Are any of us?" Dean replied. Cas fell silent and the three men walked solemnly through the twisting maze of chairs and chests and into the vast, unsheltered world outside.

The three men stumbled and fumbled their way through the unlit corridors, trying to ignore the sobbing and arguing they heard through the thin walls. Even for a cheap motel, the hallways were filthy; rubbish, vomit, what was unmistakably blood, it all reflected the atmosphere of the new world. Eventually they saw light from outside streaming through the front entrance and doubled their pace, emerging into the ghost town outside.

The trio walked slowly and cautiously in a tight formation. The world was silent, still and empty. The regular rhythm of their footstep fell into time with each other making a single, loud, steady beat of their footsteps which echoed and reverberated around them. They only saw three living beings on their 15-minute journey from the motel to the campus, it seemed so much longer than yesterday. The first person they saw had been an old woman who had drawn her blinds hurriedly and resolutely avoided looking directly at the group. The second encounter had been with a stray cat who had slinked back into the shadows, the third a young man who had had a similar reaction.

They walked up the middle of the street to avoid the cars parked haphazardly at the sides of the street, weaving between the few abandoned vehicles in the middle of the road they made their way slowly to their desired destination. When the building loomed into view the trio quickened their pace and made a beeline for the door, the desire to get out of the oppressive emptiness overwhelming them. Sam leaned into the heavy door and pushed it open, a square of light fell through the doorway, but seemed to be swallowed by the inky blackness within.

"Who's there!?" croaked out a small voice and a pale face emerged from around the corner of the hall.

"Ava? It's me Sam, I'm here with Cas and my brother Dean. Is everything OK here?"

"Yeah…no… I don't know. The electricity went out last night and Brady fell down the stairs. He broke his arm and I tried to call 911 but the line was permanently engaged, the whole city was panicking and I don't know what to do." She whimpered.

"Ava, why don't you take me to Brady and I'll see what I can do." Cas spoke softly and let Ava guide him up the stairs, throwing a nod back to Sam and Dean to let them know that they should go do what they needed to do.

Sam walked up the stairs, not bothering to try and avoid the creaky step and uneven floorboards, but if anyone heard they didn't come out to see who was moving around. They didn't care. Sam reached his room and went to push open the door, his hand hovering in front of the varnished wood, fingers ghosting along the middle panel. He pushed open the door and slipped inside as quick as a flash. Dean hesitated for a minute before following, passing through the doorway as he heard the familiar click of Sam's charger slotting into place. And then he heard a gasp.

Dean didn't understand what was wrong at first, but then he heard it.

 _Ding. Ding. Ding ding._

With every noise echoing from Sam's phone inside the room, a tremor seemed to ripple through his clenched hand, Dean made a move to pull Sam out of the room and, but Sam stepped away and planted his feet solidly, if Dean wanted him to leave, he'd have to drag him. Dean stepped closer to Sam, his eyes fixed on his brother, gauging his actions, but his gaze slowly slipped to the phone in his brother's hand, messages and notifications bubbled their way to the screen, screaming to be noticed by absent eyes. Sam swallowed thickly and unlocked the phone, his hands shaking as he looked through the messages, he gave a small, stifle chocking sound and Dean walked over to see what he had read, but Sam had already moved to his voice mails.

 _Sam! Sam, where are you! The broadcast just finished and I went up to your room, but it was empty. Dude, where are you!? I'm really worried here!_

Whined the tinny, male voice on the end of the phone before a new voice took its place, a girl this time.

 _Sam, it's Claire, please, you've got to get back here._

It sobbed

 _Everyone is panicking, Alex has disappeared and I just really need your and Cas' help._

Dean looked up at Sam's horrified face.

"Sam." He said forcefully over the wails on the phone, "Sammy, give me the phone." Sam's hands stayed clenched around the phone, and the messages kept playing as Sam turned his wide eyes to look at Dean, horror smeared across his pale features.

 _Sam! Help me! These guys, they just jumped out of nowhere screaming about 'enjoying the little time they had left'. Sam, I think that they're going to hurt me._

It was Jess, it sounded like she was being chased. The thudding of heavy footsteps, more than one pair and the heavy breathing that crackled down the phone did little to obscure the whooping and hollering in the background.

 _Sam please! I came out here to find you, please come get me. I'm on the corner of-_

A blood curdling scream ripped its way through the small device in Sam's hands. Even when it slipped from his grasp and thudded off the hard ground, still the shrill shriek echoed. Dean pushed Sam back onto the bed and slammed his heel into the centre of the phone, silencing it.

"I- I should have been there. I should have helped them. And now Jess-" A tear rolled down Sam's cheek and he sat open mouthed, staring at the wall in dismay.

"There was nothing you could do to help them, it would have been empty words on the end of a phone line. We have to look after ourselves." Replied Dean firmly

"Then I would have done something!" exclaimed Sam snapping upright off the bed, his shock and sorrow dissolving into pain and guilt.

"What, that whole actions speak louder than words crap?" scoffed Dean.

Sam gave him a scathing look. "It's better than doing nothing. Actions may speak louder than words, but inaction screams with a silence so deafening that few can stand to hear it."

Dean paused, "…Who's that a quote from?"

"Me." Replied shortly, pushing past Dean and running down the stairs past a confused and concerned Cas. Cas walked into the room, eyes darting between Dean, the smashed phone and the door.

Dean shook his head and sighed, which Cas took to mean 'Don't ask right now', before he walked out of the room after Sam.

Dean made his way back to the entrance and pushed the heavy oak door, it swung out into the world outside. Bright light assaulted his eyes and he saw Cas lift his hand to shield his own eyes behind him, the wavering wail of a car alarm filled their ears and they saw Sam sitting with his head in his hands on the curb. They blinked away the sunlight in their eyes and saw that smoke on the horizon was obscuring Bluebell. They moved towards Sam, not making any attempt to talk to him or move him, they simply took a seat on either side and waited patiently. It's not like there was any rush, they had all the time in the world. It just so happened that that amounted to three short months. Dean remembered the piercing, scream that Jess had given while observed the slowly building column of smoke and tried to block out the wavering tones of the car alarm. He had known that the eerie calm wouldn't have lasted long, and he dreaded what was to come.

"Did you find anything out?" murmured Sam hoarsely.

"What?" replied Dean and Cas in synchronised confusion.

"Cas. You said that you were going to try and research more into the figures for Lunar-end M17. Did you find anything?" he elaborated, coldly and emotionlessly.

"Sam, I don't think- "started Cas.

"Did. You. Find. Anything." Gritted out Sam, grief-fuelled anger burning in his tone.

"The-the internet wasn't working when I was there." Stammered Cas.

"Don't lie to me!" roared Sam, spinning of the curb to face Cas, his chest heaving and his nostrils flared.

Dean rose slowly and placed a hand on Sam's chest. He looked him dead in the eye and spoke slowly and firmly. "Breath. Slowly. Then take a seat."

Sam inhaled with a shudder and let his eyes flutter shut before sitting down with a thud. Cas, who hadn't realised he had been holding his breath, let out a shaky exhale and relaxed his muscles.

"Please tell me." Whispered Sam. "I want to know. I- "he breathed deeply, "I need to know." He finished. His voice was steady, sure and solemn. Looking over to Dean and getting a nod of permission, Cas started to talk.  
"Well, the internet honestly wasn't working, but Brady had been on a ton of official sites before it went down. He checked and cross checked and checked again, but it's true. It's all true. The comet, the probabilities, the-" Cas choked up, "what they said would happen if the comet hits."

The trio fell silent and the inertia forced upon them by the weight of the words immobilised them. The sun was high in the sky before any of them moved, Cas shifted uncomfortably on the cold, hard, gravely ground and Dean breathed hard, running his hands across his face and through his hair.

"Sam." He murmured softly, "We need to head back to the motel."

Sam nodded stiffly and snapped into a standing position, refusing to look at the other two, his jaw clenched tightly. "Let's go." He gritted out through a throat tight with unshed tears. He stalked away quickly, retracing the path that had brought him to the ghosts of his life before the broadcast.

Cas and Dean watched for a second as Sam marched ahead and Dean gave a concerned huff as he crossed his arms and furrowed his brow. He couldn't protect Sam from the comet, and he couldn't protect him from this. Why was it always the real-life issues that were the hardest to deal with?

"I know you're worried about him, I am too, but we can help him together. You're not alone in this, not anymore." Soothed Cas as he placed a reassuring hand on Dean's shoulder. Dean turned and met his eyes, getting lost in the calming blue ripples that seemed to emerge from his pupils. Cas' hand wandered idly down Dean's arm, his fingers brushing gently against Dean's hand making Dean's skin tingle and crawl in the best way imaginable. Then Dean remembered where he was, who he was and were the world was going. And he stepped back.

"Let's go." He said in a gruff tone, looking down the street along which Sam was marching. A look of shock and pained rejection flickered across Cas' eyes, before embarrassment took its place. It was pathetic, the end of the world and he latches onto the first person he sees. He scolded himself silently and stepped back trailing a respectable distance behind Dean as they made their way back into the city. Each of their heart heavy with a different sorrow, minds cluttered with a different worry, lives threatened by a common danger.

They didn't stop; not when they saw the smoke growing thicker in the distance; not when they heard the increasing din of a large riled up crowd; not when they saw the massive hoard of people packed into the centre of the city. What did make them stop was a preacher standing on a low structure in the centre of the crowd.

""But concerning that day and hour no one knows, not even the angels of heaven, nor the Son, but the Father only." Matthew 24:36. That is the word of scripture, but God has seen fit to grant us a warning. I beseech you, repent for your sins! We all have three months to change our ways and ascend unhindered to our rightful places in Heaven. No crime, no sin, no flaw is unforgivable! Change your ways! Let Jesus into your heart and cast out your demons! Temptation! Envy! Wrath! Do this, and this will not be the end for you, merely a new beginning." Cried the young man, the audience was enraptured. All eyes were glued on the tall, dark figure and once the cheering and praise had died down, the preacher seemed to look directly at the trio and he spoke his last words, calmly and solemnly, before getting down and disappearing into the crowd.

Ten little words that stuck with all three of the men for the rest of their lives, even if the meaning shifted and twisted throughout the course.

"Don't let you past impede your future eternity in paradise."

The road was blocked, there was no way they could get back to where they had come from. The only option was to move on to somewhere else. Dean's throat tightened as he stared at the impenetrable wall of bodies in front of him. He just wanted to go home. That place that he had never had. That feeling he had never known. That dream he had always had. Sam was the only real home he had ever had, except for maybe… Yeah, that would work.

"Guys, come on, we need to go and I know just the place." Dean shouted over the rumble of the thousand-legged beast that swelled and shifted in front of them.

"Where?" retorted Sam, his tone harsh with emotional exhaustion and irritation at the unorderly chaos inhibiting their passage.

"The Roadhouse."

 **|\|\|\|**

By now the sun was starting its lazy descent, and the breeze that had been gentle and cool during the midday heat was now bitter, biting and bone-chilling. The trio traipsed with tired feet towards the promised comfort and warmth of the multi-level carpark where the Impala was parked. It had been bad enough having to take the long route due to the masses of people in the city, but just when Sam thought it couldn't get any worse it did, it started to rain.

"It's just little further." Reassured Dean. He had suggested that they walk to the car in order to travel up the highway to the Roadhouse, the others had agreed, but they were all undoubtedly regretting it now.

"Screw you." Stuttered Sam as his jaw chattered uncontrollably. His shaking arms clutched at the thin, soaked fabric that clung to his soft skin.

"We'll be there before you know it and Cas has said that he'll give you his coat if you want. "

"Screw you." Repeated Sam again, refusing to look at Dean.

"Fine OK." Breathed Dean throwing up his hands in defeat.

The rest of the trip was silent, save for the sloshing of water in shoes as the marched in time to the beat of the rain on the surrounding concrete jungle. Soon the building fell into their field of view and the trio marched resolutely towards the gapping mouth of the stone giant. The car was on the 9 floor, but the good news was that scaling the mountain of steps did succeed in warming the all up. Once they reached the impala, Dean retrieved some old clothes from the trunk and everyone peeled off the worst of the cold, wet, heavy clothes that clung to their skin before pulling on the dry spares and sliding into the warm interior of the car.

The stench of sweat and tangible emotion hung in the air like a fog.

"So," blurted Cas to break the tension, "what now?"

 **|\|\|\|**

With Dean behind the wheel, Cas riding shotgun and Sam sitting quietly in the backseat, choosing solitude during this harsh time, the trio went on their way. However, the barren back roads along which they sped unhindered turned to stuffy, packed roads, which then morphed into an immobile river of vehicles that stretched far into the distance.

"Dean, I think maybe we should take a different route. I saw a dirt road back there that said it was North bound. It's not too late to go back. If we take back roads, we'll get there faster," Cas explained softly, aware of the fact that Dean was already white-knuckling the steering wheel. Car horns and profanities coloured the air and Dean soon joined the chorus of frustrated commuters. The wreckage of a van slid into view around a corner. It lay length ways across the road, blocking all traffic in and out of the city.

"Fuck!" he exclaimed, slamming his fist down of the steering wheel and making Cas jump and look at him in concern. "Damnit!" Dean ran a weary hand through his tousled hair. "This is- I can work around this. This is fine. I'll just go the back route. I'll just do that," he muttered to himself as he reversed, much to the disapproval of the drivers behind him, and sped back down the road towards the dirt road they had past that Cas had mentioned. Dean almost overshot, and the engine rumbled and growled as the Impala fishtailed slightly at the entrance to the dirt road, before gaining speed and flying bumpily down the path.

Cas was immensely grateful for the car's well maintained suspension as they jolted and jostled down the uneven path, fingers digging into the supple leather of his seat, his eyes squeezed shut. It was a few minutes before his grip loosened on the chair, and consciousness slipped through his relaxed fingers. Dragged unwillingly to sleep by harsh rumble of the engine, the emotional and physical exhaustion he had faced took hold. However, only a few minutes later, he was awoken abruptly by someone screaming.

"Dean! Please! Just pull the fuck over!" yelled Sam. Cas whipped around, adrenaline pumping through him as he saw tears streaming down Sam's ashen face as the teen shook violently. What the hell had Cas missed!?

Dean seemed to understand how serious the situation was and nodded, concern contorting his features. The older brother pulled over to the side of the road furthest from the wreckage. It was still visible through the thin treeline bordering the side of the back road facing the highway - nobody had been able to move it - but most of the vehicles had diffused, opting to find and alternative route. Those that stayed were the emergency services and a few scared, stubborn, loud commuters who refused to leave.

Sam got out quickly, eyes drawn in the direction of the van crash with the look of a caged, terrified animal in his eyes. Dean pulled him into a small, rough hug; slapping his back, he pulled away after a second. Far away, car horns and sirens screamed themselves into a vague chorus.

"Walk it off, little brother," Dean said. He watched Sam's back as Cas got out of the car behind him.

"What happened? I've never seen him so on edge," Cas said softly, glancing around. The words 'terrified', 'panicky' and 'hopeless' hung on the air, ringing through Dean's head despite the fact that Castiel hadn't said them.

"He said that he was feeling claustrophobic and overwhelmed and then he just flipped out. But, I think we've got a right to feel that way," replied Dean eventually. With a sigh, he glanced at his watch. "If we stick to this road until we reach the highway, I reckon we can make it to the Roadhouse in a day or two."

Cas opened his mouth to answer, but before he could his phone vibrated in his pocket. The student glanced at the screen.

 **[YOU HAVE (17) MISSED CALLS FROM-**

 **ANNA (2)**

 **UNKNOWN NUMBER (15)]**

Cas frowned.

"What's wrong?" asked Dean, concern in his voice.

"Nothing. It's just a couple of calls from somebody I don't-" The screen lit up as [UNKNOWN NUMBER] called again, and Cas hit the green button before he could think about it. He put the call on speaker, and he and Dean leant together, closer to the phone. "Hello?" asked Castiel.

"Finally!" The male voice was exasperated. "Castiel, that you?"

Cas' face paled; eyes wide with horror, he gave Dean a single desperate look. At that second, Dean knew that something was terribly wrong.

"Castiel?" the voice tried again, "Castiel, damnit, answer me!"

"M-Michael?" Cas spoke in a voice so small that even Dean could barely make out the words. It was like he thought that, provided he spoke quietly enough, it would be as if he had never spoken at all. No such luck.

"Took you long enough!" Cas flinched as the words stabbed into him, a cutting tone that he knew so well. That left a hundred little paper cuts under his skin, that no one ever saw and he never got rid of. "Where are you? Me and Luke're coming to get you."

A shred of confidence, buried most of the time but now raising its curious head, reared inside Castiel. "How did you get this number?!"

"Easy." The man, 'Michael', snorted. "Apparently big brother Gabe cared enough to keep track of you for four years - why, I have no idea. It wasn't hard to get your number from him, even if you never answered his calls." A sharp stab of guilt skewered Cas' heart. Michael cleared his throat. "Back to the point - where. Are. You?"

"I ran away!" Cas raised his voice. "Do you really think I'm just gonna-"

"Watch your tone, little brother." Castiel shut his mouth, and when Dean clutched his shoulder it was shaking. The man on the phone inhaled deeply. "Fine. You might not want to tell me now, but trust me, kid, we'll find you. You'll learn that you can't run away from family - not this family. Not-"

Dean had had enough. He snatched the phone from Cas' limp fingers, face dark, and raised it to his mouth. "Listen here, you son of a bitch. Cas is with me and my brother now, like hell are you gonna get to teach him your 'lesson' while we're around. Back the fuck off, douchebag." On the other end of the line, Michael started roaring something into the receiver, but Dean stopped Cas' phone and pressed the power button until the screen turned completely black. No more phone calls - not for now, anyway. "Cas?" Dean tried, meeting the other man's eyes.

"You barely even know me… Why would you do that for me?" A small smile curled Castiel's lips, and Dean's heart damn near burst out of his chest. "Thank you, really!" he said earnestly. His face reddened a little. "Me and my brother don't get along so well."

"I could tell," Dean said dryly, just as Sam appeared beside them. He glanced between the pair.

"Did I miss something?" he said hoarsely, but steadily.

Dean laughed and slapped his calmer-looking little brother on the back. "Nope. I think we're ready to hit the road again, though. You alright?"

Sam looked less pale now, and gave his brother a small, cautious smile. "Okay, I think. I'm not driving!"

"Not driving!" Cas echoed, laughing softly as Dean swore colourfully as he swung into the driver's seat. In the passenger seat as the engine started up, Cas glanced down at his phone in his lap. After a second, he shoved it into his pocket.

 **|\|\|\|**

 ** _At the Roadhouse._**

Jo looked at the silvery outline of the moon etched into the powdery blackness of the night sky. The stars were scattered in an unorganised array of sparkling jewels embedded in the thick darkness. The biting wind whispered through the trees, sending cascades of leaves swirling towards the ground in a small hurricane of warm, autumn tones, gliding across her skin and rippling through her long hair and thick, woollen jumper giving her clarity.

The cold, solid weight of her father's metal pocket watch in her hand gave her strength, just as he had. Jo was ready for this; for leaving, for finding her own way, for the end. She was ready for anything. If the world was going to end, if she was going to die, she was going to do it happy, with the person who meant more to her than this broken world ever could.

Jo Harvelle stepped cautiously and quietly along the frozen, frosty ground as she made her way into the forest near her house. She had memorized the train timetables and routes - she would be there within the week. She grinned broadly and adjusted the straps on the heavy pack on her back. She walked away, her footsteps as light as her heart, her pack as heavy as her mind, as her mother and the man who was more than a brother to her slept blissfully, oblivious to her departure.

Sure, they would miss her, they would be disappointed and angry. But that wasn't the end of the world.

 **|\|\|\|**


	3. Possibly Maybe Slightly

**|\|\|\|**

 **Bluebell, Chapter 3.**

 **Possibly Maybe Slightly.**

 **[28]**

"Hey," Dean murmured, breath knitting in silver spirals on the morning air. Handing Cas a large Styrofoam cup of piping hot coffee, he eased himself onto the Impala's hood beside the other man, the hood sinking a little as he lent on it. He nursed his own cup with stiff, frozen fingers.

Their warm breath and the hot coffee caused a thin mist to waft slowly in front of their vision before dissipating into nothing. Though short-lived, the small clouds danced merrily as they rose higher. Above them, the lightening sky was open and cloudless, a dull blue-grey. Lunar-End wasn't visible at the moment, bleeding into the skyline.

The grass around the Impala glinted with frost, a morning dew frozen where it coated the ground in small, crystalline spikes. Sam slept in the back seat of the car, heater whirring and rattling quietly. The horizon was coated with trees; a thin smattering on the side nearest the main road, but a thick forest on the other side, cool and concealing.

It called to Dean, in a strange way. It would be so easy just to slip into the forest and just focus on surviving until the end. Not worrying about other people, or the future. They'd been driving all night, switching shifts until they reached these crappy roadside services - surprisingly, it was still open for business.

"Hi." Cas leant forwards, hair messy from a night of bad sleep and driving shifts. A tumble of tangles and curls that curtained his brow. He had dark bags under his eyes, but the pupils themselves were bright and alive, unreadable as they scanned the morning sky.

Trying to read his passive expression, it took Dean a second to realise Cas had spoken again. "That place was open, then?" the ex-student asked.

Dean snorted. "The guy at the counter looked ancient enough to not to notice, you know, the end of the world." Cas laughed bitterly for a second, before realising that he was the only one making a sound, and shut up. Dean was preoccupied and distant, staring up at the lightening sky and at the slowly rising sun as it set fire to the misty trail of clouds that covered Lunar-End. She wasn't even half the size of the moon - only a dim, blue trail in the dawn. Harmless.

Sure.

"What's the Roadhouse like?" Cas asked, for a change in conversation if not for anything else. He was also driven by curiosity, Sam and Dean spoke of it like home. Not a place where you lived and grew up, a place where you were happy and safe and loved. That's home. Cas hadn't had much experience with home, he wanted to know what it was like.

Dean considered him for a second, chewing the inside of his cheek. "Home-y, I guess. Dad always used to leave us there when he had to work away for a few days when we were kids." A small smile sidled onto his face, replacing the tense, preoccupied stress, creeping into the corners of his eyes. "There's a girl there, Jo. Sorta like a little sister, I guess; she's about Sam's age. I haven't seen her for a few years now, though."

The smile widened as he allowed himself to slip into the memory. "God, I remember when Sammy had the hots for her." He barked out a clipped laugh, a new, golden sunlight shining onto his face as the sun peaked over the horizon. It highlighted his cheekbones and his hair transformed from brown to blonde in the new light.

"Lost cause?"

"Damn right. Ah, the look on his face when she got a girlfriend." Dean looked smug, reminiscent.

Castiel felt suddenly bold. "What about you? Did you have 'the hots' for any girls?" _Damn. Stupid question._ Why he was suddenly so curious, Cas didn't know, but he couldn't take the question back now. Was he curious, or something close to jealous? His breath stuck uncomfortably in his throat.

Dean laughed, but he suddenly sounded far less confident. "Nobody in particular," he said lamely, and Cas dropped it, nodding in understanding, a soft smile twitching at his lips.

 **|\|\|\|**

It was around early evening when the Impala's engine gave an ominous, low splutter. Sam, taking his turn to drive, shot the dash a suspicious look, and Cas yawned quietly from the back seat. A rusty old rock classic warbled from the car radio, smothered by the sound of tires speeding across the gravelly ground.

"Something wrong?" Cas asked drowsily, sharing a glance with Dean.

Sam opened his mouth to answer but as he did, the engine gave a grinding splutter and started to whir. Sam and Dean exchanged confused looks, the former pausing, then sighing before pulling into a nearby lay-by. The road was deserted, dusty in the afternoon sun. The world of bumper to bumper cars and smoke, of packed together bodies and loud yelling, seemed a universe behind them now. A cloud of birds exploded from a nearby tree as the Impala coughed and spluttered loudly towards it.

Just as she slid into the lay-by, the Impala's engine groaned and died, plunging the trio into silence save for the breeze through the trees and the gentle symphony of birds deeper in the forest singing joyfully through their blissful ignorance of their future. Dean stepped out of the driver's seat and into the cool and thick breeze of the hazy, open-road afternoon.

Leaning over the warm hood, Dean waited as Sam and Cas joined him. The ground beneath their feet was a light brown, the colour of dried mud, and the air smelt faintly of fresh pine. It would have been peaceful had it not been for the circumstances and the annoyed grumbling, courtesy of Dean.

Wrenching up the Impala's hood, Dean rummaged around for a minute before shifting his weight onto one leg, lolling his head with a groan. "Damnitt! Out of gas." The man turned to Castiel. "Any idea where we are?"

"You just said to 'follow the road', not 'follow the map'," Cas said dryly. He snapped open his phone and sighed. "No signal."

 **|\|\|\|**

"Sam, I mean it. You. Are. Staying. Here."

Sam opened his mouth to rebuke Dean's orders, but his older brother spoke over him firmly, narrowing his eyes as he employed his commanding, big-brother stance that had been used so frequently in Sam's youth. He gestured as he spoke, pointing at Sam and the car in turn to emphasise his point.

"You're dead on your feet Sammy, I've been watching you and you haven't slept properly since the broadcast. Stay here, try to get some sleep and Cas and I'll be back soon."

Sam scowled, but sank obediently onto the back seat, staring up at the roof of the Impala. Alone. He sat up briefly as he heard the crunching of boots on the gravel road and his gaze flicked momentarily to watch Cas and Dean walking in the direction of the main road in the hopes of getting their bearings and locating a gas station. He lent back again, staying stock-still and willing himself to fall asleep, but his eyes wouldn't close and sleep wouldn't come. This was going to be a long wait.

 **|\|\|\|**

It didn't take long once they reached the empty road, as directly across the empty road was a sign that read, ' _Gas- Two miles - North bound'._

"Perfect," mused Dean, "We can get there in half an hour if we walk fast."

Cas nodded in agreement and the two men set off. It was a long walk; Cas prided himself on being healthy, but even he had difficulty matching Dean's pace. By the time the gas station rolled onto the horizon the two men were steaming in the winter air, a bitter breeze biting at the moisture that clung to them, sweat glistening on their skin. As the low sun obscured their vision, Dean threw an arm up to block out the blinding bright rays and walked quickly, relief speeding his pace, towards the old building.

Once inside, they were greeted by sparsely stocked shelves and an older gentleman who met them at the door and looked them up and down.

"Gas?" the man guessed, and when Dean confirmed it, he nodded knowingly and took the last can from the shelf. He sighed and shook his head as he passed it to Dean.

"This'll do you for now, but you might want 'ta come back for more tomorrow. My buddy's off gettin' as much gas as he can, it's gonna be a valuable resource until the end." The man spoke matter-of-factly, like they were talking about the weather, seemingly unphased by the weight of his words.

"You talk like the end of the world is just another Tuesday." commented Dean, eliciting a low laugh from the man.

"Son, I'm a ex-marine. This isn't the first time I've been faced with the end of the world. I don't know about you two, but I plan to go down fighting."

Dean wasn't sure how exactly you fought an imminent collision with a massive comet, but the sentiment occupied his mind and after the man took twenty dollars off Cas (he refused the offer of more, stating that money was useless and that he had all he needed to get him to the end), he and Cas walked back to the car in silence.

When the duo returned and refuelled they set off again. The sun soon dipped below the hazy horizon and when it did, the Impala was surrounded by a thick, inky darkness. Now that the calls from his brothers had finally let up, Cas could go through his texts – not that there were many of them. His childhood friend Anna who he still talked to occasionally seemed to be taking it well, all things considered. Cas was glad; she was only nineteen, and deserved not to have to deal with the clinging fear that he could feel.

Then again, this was Anna he was thinking about, so the chances were that she was lying. She was never one to tell the complete truth, not if she knew that it would worry him. Cas gave a small smile. She was the only friend that his older brothers had ever accepted, and Chuck had never cared all that much. A father who ignored him and brothers - who suffocated him. It was a harsh, lonely childhood, but Anna had alleviated some of it.

Shaking himself out of thoughts that he could tell were taking a turn in the direction of depressing, Cas switched off his phone. The car was filled with darkness once again (bar the occasional streetlight or headlight), and they drove in silence until, from the back seat, Cas caught Sam's head starting to nod with sleep.

"Alright," he said quickly, startling Sam gently wake, "We need to pull over."

As Sam, misty-eyed and confused, started to slow the car and pull over, Dean shot Cas a look. "Why are we pulling over again?" He sounded impatient and irritated, as if any delays like this simply couldn't be afforded. Then again, with only 3 months left to live, Cas couldn't fault him for not wanting to waste time.

"Because Sam's close to falling asleep, for one thing." The car rumbled to a halt.

"I'll drive!" Dean exclaimed. _Yes, Sam needs to sleep_ , thought Dean, _but we don't need to halt the entire journey. We've had enough setbacks already_.

Cas peered at his friend disbelievingly. "It looks like you're pretty tired too, Winchester." That same confidence bubbled up in his stomach. Dean opened his mouth in indignation, and Castiel raised his eyebrows. "I'm a med student. Don't even try."

Grumbling in defeat, Dean got out of the car. Sam looked exhausted – there were dark, brownish bruises under his eyes from lack of proper sleep and he sagged against the Impala's side – so it was decided that he would get the two front seats to sleep in. This left Cas and Dean with a rather awkward situation - the back seats to share.

 _If you get a boner at any point, Dean Winchester, it'll be the end of you, Dean told himself_ , face slightly flushed. Sam seemed oblivious to the atmosphere between his two companions and simply crashed bonelessly into the front of the car, mumbling, 'Night' into the gap between the seats and the door where his head came to rest. Knowing Sam he would drool all over the leather seats, but Dean found himself tpo exhausted to care.

 _Fuck it_ , Dean found himself thinking. Clambering into the back seat, he stretched out and pressed himself against the back cushioning. The seats in the back were quite long, so there would just about be room for Cas to fit on.

After a second of hesitation, Cas climbed in. His body was impossibly warm against Dean's, even under layers of clothing, and the rest of the car suddenly felt immensely cold. The contrast of cool leather and hot skin sent shivers down his spine. The blue-eyed man's breath tickled his face, hands trapped between their chests, and outside they could hear a truck rumble by in the dark.

"It's cold," Cas breathed, shuffling closer slightly. His body was tense and stiff and, on impulse, Dean reached up and kneaded his shoulder gently with his hand. It was like a reflex, an instinct, to try and make him comfortable and relaxed. After a few minutes of silence, Cas had relaxed significantly, and their cold legs and feet were entwined now to keep out the cold, boots kicked off and disregarded in the foot well. Dean puffed a warm breath into Castiel's messed-up hair, and they both laughed quietly in the dark.

The voice was back in Dean's head now, the nagging and niggling, _**'back off'**_ , becoming a blurring chorus in his thoughts. He ignored it liberally. Maybe, just maybe, there was something worth the trust and the pain here. Millions of tiny, tentative ' _maybe_ 's burst like sparklers in Dean's head, small and warm and filled with something like hope. A maybe of survival into spring, of hope that lasted into summer and gold rings tinted with the fire of autumn leaves and warmth even as the land was covered with snow. Of living on.

The other man interrupted his thoughts by blowing softly through pursed lips at his nose, and Dean chuckled again. Slipping his arm around Cas' shoulder, on impulse Dean pulled the ex-student closer by the small of his back until their noses were nearly touching, and their eyes burned into each other's in the dark.

Another lorry rattled past and for a second, Cas' face was a renaissance painting, a thunderstorm outside of a stained glass window, all pale streaks of white and gold and shadows that were sharp shards across the angles of his face. He was smiling slightly, eyes faintly fond in the light and mouth pulled into a lopsided grin. He looked strangely innocent, sea-blue eyes soft and warm, and Dean's heart was sold then and there.

Then the truck disappeared into the darkness and the moment was over. A few seconds passed, sparsely filled with hushed, clement breaths, before Sam gave a loud snore. Dean and Cas burst out laughing, quickly stifling their laughter so as not to wake the younger man, and Cas abruptly rested his forehead against Dean's with a small laugh. Dean wished he could turn the car on and get some heat, maybe turn on the radio, but it would just waste gas. He nestled into Cas and tried to soak up his warmth, and he had a solution to the lack of music too.

" _It's all about you,_ " Dean breathed, watching Castiel's face break out into a blinding smile, " _It's all about you baby._ "

" _It's all about you,_ " Cas joined in, voice hushed like he was whispering his secrets into the shadows of the back seat, " _It's all about you!_ "

" _Yesterday you asked me somethin' I thought you knew,_ " Dean said in a secretive voice, as if he and Cas had made some sort of other universe, another tiny pocket of time in which only they existed. He didn't want anyone else to find this place, it was isolated, perfect, just the two of them.

" _So I told you with a smile – it's all about you,_ " Cas continued, smile growing across his face, a new kind of warmth flowering in his chest.

Dean leaned closer. " _Then you whispered in my ear and you told me too,_ "

" _Said you make my life worthwhile, it's all about you,_ " Cas finished, a laugh bubbling from his chest with the line.

Dean joined in now. " _And I would answer all your wishes, if you asked me to. But if you denied me one of your kisses, don't know what I'd do!_ "

" _So_!" Their voices lowered in unison, foreheads still pressed together. " _Hold me close and say three words like you used to do!_ " Their voices lowered further now, slowing. The words became drawn out, like the song was a treasure that they didn't want to let go. It was slightly out of key, breathy and uneven, and scratchy, but Cas was smiling more widely than he thought he ever had and Dean wasn't far behind. Laughter swept into their voices. " _Dancing on the kitchen tiles – yes you make my life worthwhile, so I told you with a smile-_ "

" _It's all about you…_ "

The words melted onto the air, and suddenly the moment was over. Cas gave Dean a small and tired smile, pressing his head a little closer to Dean's, and Dean was weightless. For a second, just a second, he didn't care anymore. Leaning closer, he brushed his lips tenderly over Castiel's…

And jerked away as if burnt, "I'm sorry, I just-"

"Dean!" Cas cut in, Dean's mouth clicked shut. "Dean…" he repeated, softer, pleading. Cas' eyes seared into Dean's, tilting his head to the side, and this time it was he who lent in and caught the other's lips with his own.

The kiss wasn't like they are in the movies, nor was it like any kiss that Dean had had before. It was short, sure, but incomprehensibly _real_. Cas smelt like stale woodsmoke and his lips were chapped and hot on Dean's, a harsh shiver running through him as their lips connected. A car sped past, and Dean's eyelids were on fire.

As he pulled away, Dean's green eyes fluttered open, and they landed on Cas' lips. He could feel Castiel's eyes burning into his, and a second passed before he slid his gaze up to meet them. The silence was swelling, unbroken; the atmosphere in the car moved and flowed too fast for Dean's mind to keep up with, as fluid and fast as quicksilver in the dusk. Wrapping around him like a vice. A feeling so strong it startled him – so strong that he barely knew what it was – surged through Dean. He suddenly felt like he never wanted to let Castiel go, never close his eyes.

He was suddenly terrified that he was going to wake up, that was going to blink and Cas would be gone. Ever since the broadcast he had wanted to wake up from this awful nightmare, but a small voice was screaming now that maybe, in some fucked up way, this was worth it.

Slowly, Castiel shook his head.

Dean's heart sunk like a stone, the feeling shattered into dust, but he hesitantly shook his head along with the other. Burying his head in Dean's chest, Cas sighed sadly. "Let's just forget this ever happened, Dean," he mumbled, as a truck rumbled past and lit up the tips of his raven-black hair a whiteish-gold.

After a few minutes had passed, Castiel's breathing evened out. Squashing a tight twist of rejection, bitter and sore, Dean pressed his nose into Cas' hair and closed his eyes. Tomorrow morning this would all be over, but he could savour holding this remarkable human being in his arms for now.

It was a long time before he finally got to sleep.

 **|\|\|\|**

When Sam woke up he was unsurprised to find Cas and Dean sprawled on top of each other on the backseat of the Impala. He huffed out a laugh as he sat up.

"Glad you two crazy kids worked it out," he chuckled quietly, feeling more refreshed than he had for a long time. He stretched out his limbs, joints cracking with a satisfyingly clear sound before he slowly and quietly got out of the car.

It was still dark outside, and there was a dull hue over the still forest. It was at least five or six in the morning, but Sam didn't care; he couldn't sleep anymore, anyway. He was glad that he had woken up early, needing a change. The teen had had been thinking last night, and he had decided that if he was going to be here for another 3, long months, then he was going to have to get stronger. Mentally and physically. Cleanse and strengthen the body and the mind will follow. Right?

Dean would probably call it something like 'apocalypse yoga'. Sam snorted at the thought.

It was bitterly cold, but Sam preferred it that way. It gave him a sense of clarity, it woke him up and it calmed him down. He mapped out his plan in his head; _run for 30 minutes, then do stretches and strengthening exercises for the next 30 minutes. By then, Dean and Cas should be awake_. He allowed himself a small smile before jogging off into the forest. Feeling even a little productive felt good.

He set of at a clumsy, uneven pace, but soon found his rhythm. Sam's legs burned and his lungs ached, but the pain just drove him faster and further. By the time he made it back to the car Sam was exhausted, and collapsed on the ground, skidding slightly on the loose dirt.

"Whoa! Sammy! You okay?" exclaimed Dean from beside the car. He looked uncomfortable, he had been crouched in the dirt, staring at his shoes before Sam's abrupt (and uncomfortably horizontal) arrival. Maybe last night hadn't had the effect Sam had assumed.

Sam stood up and dusted himself up, a shakey smile and shakey legs showing the mixture of exhaustion and endorphines that cloaked his body. "I'm fantastic!" he wheezed, swaying from side to side before planting himself on the ground and getting into position to do some sit ups.

"Whoa! Easy there, tiger! Take a second to breath!" laughed Dean anxiously as he put his hand on Sam's shoulder to steady him. This was not the Sammy he had seen last night, and he wasn't sure whether that was a good thing or a bad thing. Sudden swings in emotions and personality had never been a good sign in the past.

"Yeah, yeah, okay," agreed Sam breathlessly, sighing and leaning back on the grass. That was enough for today. The dust settled around them and a cooling breeze brushed against Sam's skin, relieving the heat from the warm blood coursing around his body. He shook his hair out and the breeze crawled against his scalp, sending a shiver of pleasure through his spine and standing the hairs along his arms and neck on end.

"Since when are you all into fitness, anyway?" asked Dean.

"Since 'I've got all the time in the world to get fit' became synonymous with 'I have three months to get fit'," he replied bluntly.

"Come on Sam, I'm glad you're getting fit and all, but there's still a chance that- well, you know, it's not over," reassured Dean, more to himself than to Sam. Neither of them believed it. However, before the subject could be discussed further, Cas appeared holding a greasy paper bag in one hand and a container of gas for Baby in the other.

"Hey!" He didn't meet Dean's eyes, the same eyes he had traced his fingers over the lids of tenderly last night. Dean resisted the urge to squirm. "I found a little vending cart on the side of the road up there on my way to get gas that did burgers and salad, so I got three burgers. Poor guy gave them to me for free because he had to get rid of all of his stock," he called out before his eyes landed on Sam, panting on the ground. "Whoa, Sam, are you okay?!"

"Yeah, he's golden," replied Dean with a half-concerned smile, not meeting Cas' eyes, much to Cas' confusion. "Better get some food into him, though." he added with a small chuckle, slapping Sam on the back and walking over to Cas. He leaned over and whispered in his ear.

"I have a really bad feeling about Sammy. I don't know if it's Jess or the end of the world, Hell, it's probably both, but he's not doing well at all. There's no big problem yet, but please do me a favor and keep and eye on him."

A concerned and sympathetic look slid across Cas' face and he nodded stiffly. Dean's nerves settled a bit. It was reassuring to have someone else around to help him look after Sammy, even if he wasn't used to it in the slightest. He had been Dean's responsibility, and Dean's alone, since he was four and Sammy was only a baby.

Cas grabbed a blanket from the back seat and laid it gently on the ground before putting the food down and beckoning over Sam and Dean. He hoped that Dean's sudden shift in behaviour towards him was just because of concern for Sam, and not because last night had screwed up any chance at a friendship, that they had had. Dean had no qualms about digging into the greasy heart attack, but Sam looked at with uncharacteristic distaste, like it was rotted and spoiled. He sat down gingerly, his nose wrinkled, and picked at the soggy burger in front of him.

"Maybe later…" he said with a grimace before lying back on the rug and looking up at the dappled sunlight streaming through the trees. Cas an Dean exchanged a look, but let it slide. This was nothing - the youngest of the trio was just a little on edge. Dean scoffed to himself and settled into devouring his burger. Sammy had always been a bit of a fussy eater, he convinced himself. Burgers for breakfast probably just didn't fit his idea of 'proper' food.

 **|\|\|\|**

After a few hours of chatting and soaking up the morning sun while they sat on the tartan blanket, Dean got restless and got to his feet. "I don't know about you guys, but I need to move."

He cracked his back and sauntered over to an old oak nearby. He gave Cas a cheeky grin, warm full of food, confident. The young man jumped, hooking his hands onto a low branch and tucking his legs into his chest before tilting back and swinging them over the branch. Sam laughed and shook his head as Dean began doing pull-ups.

Typical Dean. He loved showing off his masculinity when he was trying to impress people. That was step one - step two was more about competitiveness, which normally ended in some sort of fight (which Dean won). But he always got hurt in some way. Either physically, or emotionally when the object of his affection didn't respond well to his facade of cockiness and indifference.

Even if Cas knew what he was trying to do, and from the innocently oblivious look on his face he didn't, Sam knew Cas wouldn't fall for that stuff. He was like Jess in that way, he cared about what was inside. If this was going to happen (as Sam secretly hoped it would), Cas was going to fall for the real Dean, the squishy, overprotective guy who would give anything for the people he cared about. It was odd that Dean was behaving like this, like he was trying to treat Cas just like any other guy in a bar. Like he was trying to keep Cas at arm's length.

"Hey, bitch! Get your ass up here and let's see what you can do!" Dean challenged playfully. Step two, mused Sam as he picked himself up and wandered obediently over to Dean.

"You could always just ask him out, jerk," he said, not loud enough for Cas to hear. "Live dangerously, it's the end of the world."

Sam jumped, and was half way through swinging himself around to hook his legs over the branch when it happened. He had been feeling slightly dizzy since he'd woken, but ignored it. The minor nausea was nothing to worry about. He was just a little tired.

But when he swung himself around, it all shot in. The world around him swung, head reeling. He saw his vision go dark, felt his fingers slip from the rough wood, and he was falling before he'd even let go off the branch.

…

When he woke, he knew that he had screwed up.

"Sammy!? Sam! Sam!" called Dean as Sam's blurry eyes fluttered open.

"Ah, crap," groaned Sam, biting down on his lip as he felt the shock of pain radiating from his shoulder.

"Sam, don't move," ordered Cas loudly and authoritatively. He then turned to Dean and spoke in a more hushed voice, but Sam got the gist.

"Look, just fix me up, alright? I'm fine. Dean could pop the shoulder back in if he wanted to, this isn't the first time I've gotten hurt. It's just not normally a tree who does it. Or gravity. Depends on how you look at it." Sam gritted his teeth slightly.

"Well, from where I'm standing, it was your crazy exercising and not eating and sleeping that did this," growled Dean accusingly. He didn't know how to deal with this. Protecting Sammy from external threats was one thing, but this was different.

"Will you pop the damn shoulder in if I promise to look after myself? I'll eat, sleep, pace my exercise, everything. I'm just trying to find a rhythm to it. This obviously wasn't it."

It was exactly what Dean wanted to hear, needed to hear, and he took it, pushing down any doubt that it was true.

"Right, Cas, you put humpty-dumpty back together again and I'll go get him a salad. He always did love his rabbit food." Dean got up and stalked away, listening to Cas set up Sam to safely fix his shoulder and then count down.

"Five…four…three…" he said slowly, before popping in the shoulder and receiving a muffled cry of pain. "…Two, one," he finished redundantly before helping Sam over to the blanket to lie down while he washed and patched up the more minor injuries like scrapes and cuts.

"Look, I know I gave you a lot of flack about being more healthy, but this isn't it. Condensing a steady and safe routine into a three month bout of madness where unhealthy food is substituted for no food at all is not healthy. If you keep at this your going to kill yourself before that bloody comet does." Cas lectured firmly and concernedly.

There were a few minutes of silence before Sam asked, "So, what's up with you and Dean?" He earned himself an irate and unamused look from Cas and sighed. No changing the subject, then. "You heard what I said to Dean, this was a one time thing. It's not going to happen again, I'll look after myself."

Cas looked unconvinced, but nodded his head and picked a splinter out of Sam's arm with the tweezers before dabbing at it with a cloth and some water from the bottle in the boot of the Impala. That thing seemed to have everything in it; spare clothes, water, even a rudimentary first aid kit with some plasters and gauze. Unfortunately there were no pain killers, but Sam seemed to be managing.

When Dean returned half an hour later, he watched Sam eat his wilted salad heartily and then he bundled him into the car. "Sam, back seat." Dean ordered, raising his eyebrows at Sam when he started to refuse and then pushing him into the car with the sheet force of his glare. "Cas, shotgun, and I'll drive. We should be there by tomorrow morning."

The trio sank into the supple leather of the Impala, exhausted by the day's events. Dean started the car, the soft purr of the engine mingling with the music wafting from the radio. Some old Metallica classic, the name of which he couldn't remember. Dean gripped the wheel, watching in the rear view mirror as Sam nodded off. Finally, he thought back to all of the confusion with Cas last night. It seemed to long ago.

And he couldn't stop thinking about it. They had been so close. He could feel the heat coming off Cas, the heat rising in his own cheeks. He could still taste Cas' warm lips, feel the soft breath on his face.

He couldn't get him out of his mind. That small amount of closeness had been all to much and not enough. It was torture. Dean looked at the man next to him and quickly looked away. Now was not the time, and there would never be the time, so he did what he always did. He pushed it down and left it there to burn.

Cas picked up on the sudden change in atmosphere and shifted in discomfort. Before he could ask what was wrong, Dean turned up the radio and shot Cas a cocky grin, but his eyes were cold.

"Get some sleep," he suggested, all charm and no character. Confused, Cas turned to look out of the window and watched as the trees raced past.

It seemed that it was only when the trees were dying that they came so alive with colour, shedding their protective foliage and surrendering wholeheartedly to the brutal winter ahead. Cas also observed that people seemed to be changing more frequently than the seasons. He sat stiffly, his muscles refusing to relax in the tense atmosphere.

He cast a glance over at Dean and caught his eye. The man looked guilty, and smiled sadly when he met Cas' eyes.

He was going to break Cas' heart. He knew it. Because if he didn't break Cas' heart, Cas would break his. His resolve to not get involved was in tatters, but he could promise himself that it wouldn't go further, unless Cas made the first move.

As the song faded, the two men stared in pointedly opposite directions, out of the windows of the car. The scenery looked like it hadn't changed, the burnished leaves still carpeting the tarmac. The blue sky was still scarred by the tail of the comet.

 **|\|\|\|**

Dean drove through the firey cascade of leaves, through the think ink of night, and into the warm glow of morning. The Impala rumbled with a deep, soft purr, down the long, uneven, road, and as they approached, Cas craned his neck in the hopes of catching a glimpse of the place he had heard so much about. The last few lingering tendrils of sleep unfurled from his mind.

For the last few hour or so, Cas had been enraptured as he listened to Dean talk about the closest thing to a childhood home he had had, and had the bittersweet realisation that rooming with Sam was the most at home he had ever been. But it was a relief to hear Dean sound more like his normal self.

"It was always so busy and full of life. I remember that dad told me that it was the number one place for people to stop off at on their journeys, but to Sam and I it was more like a second home," grinned Dean, flicking his eyes from the road to smile at Cas.

The autumn treeline blurred past the window as Sam stared out at the storm of leaves that whirled and danced away from the car. "Hey, Dean," he piped up, his voice gravely from underuse, "do you remember that time I kicked a ball and accidentally smashed a window and the only thing Bobby and Ellen cared about was whether or not I was OK?"

Dean smiled broadly and chuckled, both at the fond memory and with relief at the fact that Sam was starting to get a little more animated and positive again. Hopefully it would last.

"Yeah, Sammy, I remember. You freaked out and started crying like a baby, saying you were sorry. In the end, she gave you ice cream to shut you up which only made you cry with gratitude," Dean jibed roughly, and Sam laughed.

"Dude, I was eight. Cut me some slack," Sam rebutted in a falsely offended tone. He sighed contentedly and leaned back into the seat. "I can't wait to get back there."

Soon, the car pulled lazily up to the mouth of the driveway, but as the brothers got out, their faces fell in unison.

It was nothing like they remembered. No bikes and trucks lined the front of the Roadhouse, no music and rowdy shouts rumbled from within. The world seemed frozen around the house. Even the wind appeared to know better than to breach the treeline.

Dean did not, and he led his brother and friend ( _friend? less? more? something in between_?) cautiously up to the front door. Taking the lead, Dean pushed open the door and it creaked obscenely loudly, making each of the men wince as the fragile silence was shattered. Dean looked around the cold, empty room, his breath fogging in the air and swirling around the dim, grey bar and mingling with the dry dust in the air. Just as Dean began to form the words to shout for Ellen, Jo, Ash or Bobby, he heard a cry of surprise, a warning from Sam.

"Dean!" he yelled as a figure slammed Dean into the ground.

"Where's Jo you bast-!…Dean?" The rage in his attacker's voice morphed into perplexion.

"Bobby? What the fuck is going on? What do you mean, 'where's Jo'?" Dean demanded as he stood up and brushed the dust from his clothes.

In the dull light, Dean saw Bobby's face contort in anguish. "She's gone. And we don't know where. We don't know if she ran away or if she was taken. Her father's pocket watch is gone which suggests that she ran away, but I can't think of a single reason why she would want to!"

"Maybe she was scared?" suggested Sam in a soft tone, his heart contorted at the thought of her out there on her own trying to escape the end. Alone, scared, vulnerable. His heart tore and he thought of Jess. He took a deep breath and pushed it down, he had to be strong now, for more than just himself.

"Maybe, but I can't see why that would make her want to run out into the thing that scared her."

"Maybe it's because she's a Harvelle. You are a bunch of strong, stubborn sons of bitches," Dean joked lightly to try and diffuse the tension, but then he grew more serious. "How long has she been gone?"

"A couple of days. Ellen, Ash and I have been out looking every day, but we- I just- we can't find her," he choked.

Bobby Singer was one of the bravest men that Dean had ever known, more of a father to him than his own had ever been, and he cared deeply about all his children. Though none were bound to him by blood, he would lay down his life for Jo, Ash, Sam or Dean in a heartbeat.

Dean looked at the gruff man in front of him and set his jaw. "We'll find her Bobby. I know we will. You, Ellen and Ash stay here and look around the local area, we'll go further afield. Either one of us finds her or she comes home, but she'll be back with you soon. I promise."

It was a bold statement, but Dean meant it. Even if it was for her funeral, Jo Harvelle would be back in this house if it was the last thing Dean did. Shaking the morbid thoughts from his head, Dean looked Bobby in the eyes and the older man nodded.

"There's no point in leaving now. Stay here for the night and you can head out at first light tomorrow," he said through a tight throat, thick from unshed tears.

The trio moved towards the stairs, Cas following the other two.

"I want to thank you boys, all of you. I might not know you," he said nodding at Cas, "but if you're with these guys and you're going to help find my girl, then you will always have a home under this roof."

Cas blinked in surprise and stammered out a 'thank you!'. Bobby offered him a small smile, then addressed the group.

"Ellen will be back from searching with Ash soon. I stayed behind in case she wandered home. Why don't you go get washed up? Food's on the table as soon as they come through the door." He turned and walked into the kitchen, leaving the trio alone and shocked on the staircase.

This was not what they had expected.

 **|\|\|\|**

 **I am majorly unhappy with this chapter, and hope to rewrite it at some point, but I'm already half an hour late. For now, enjoy.**


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